#and jensen just looks at him with the most point blank expression and is like sorry it was annoying me

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

ive said 1000 times that jensen is Not into pda, which is still very true, but i can absolutely see the group going out to a new bar or something and after the fourth or fifth time bryce gets hit on, jensens just like fuck this shit and yanks him in by the collar of his shirt for one of the most visibly heated kisses they've ever had

[bibliophileiz]

A (not really) Ode to bucklemming

Last bucklemming episode, and you guys, it was just such a classic example of their stale mediocrity. And yet, at the end of this post, I found myself bizarrely happy with how the episode turned out.

This is the second time I’ve watched it, and while I was planning to just liveblog my thoughts, I realized quickly that would not work, because most of the episode is boring and miserable, (especially the first third or so) and that makes for boring and miserable note-taking. I think I said in a tag of a different post that Dabb assigning this one to bucklemming is just further proof that he hasn’t cared about plot at all this season, and honestly, I don’t know there’s much they COULD have done to make this plot entertaining. Chuck even says at one point that it ... isn’t entertaining.*

The first third or so is basically Sam, Dean, and Jack being miserable with nothing around them break that misery up (except, briefly, a dog). And that makes for a miserable viewing experience. Here are a handful of notes I took that give you the gist:

- Chuck standing there talking about how loneliness and no-people is “deep” and a “page-turner” is such a gratifying little critique of shitty writers who like their gritty stories about permanently miserable protagonists. Like dude, you know there’s a reason nobody rereads “The Road,” right? - Dean slurring his words because he’s hungover is the first time anything interesting has happened with the dialogue in this whole episode. - Rob Benedict is the only one who gets to inflect his dialogue this episode. I do think his acting in that last scene is great, where he’s screaming, “Guys, wait!” as they drive off. It’s not a terrible ending scene.

So there’s that. Now here are my notes not-related to how stale and boring everything is:

Beginning: -The shots of Kyoto and New York City remind me of all the shots in NYT and other major newspapers after COVID shut everything down last spring (except in this case all the traffic would still be in New York, just no people). - “I couldn’t save anybody.” Poor Sam. (must push down feelings about Sam’s leadership arc and how it always seems to end with people dying, ugh, repress, repress!) - Also, I wanted to see a shot of a sink running and one of them turning it off. Just a random thing.

Archangel stuff: - I guess it makes sense to lose Adam if you’re going to kill Michael at the end, but goddamn if Michael isn’t a way more boring character without him. - Ah, Lucifer, a.k.a bucklemming’s attempt at comic relief. I’m starting to miss the boring dialogue. - Ooh, awesome, the only female character in the episode shows up bound and gagged and immediately murdered so she can be used and then murdered again. (Also, the first time I watched this scene, I was sure she wouldn’t wake up and was gearing up to laugh at Lucifer for sucking.) - Jensen stays as far away from her as he can when he unties her, I’m sure that actress appreciates him trying not to give her COVID. Course then she immediately ruins it by head-butting him, which is NOT practicing social distancing. - Many have commented on whether Lucifer can actually kill Death by snapping his fingers. We don’t know, but the Scythe WAS right there, and if Dean can kill Death with it (twice), I’m sure Lucifer can. - On the other hand, it IS established lore that God doesn’t have power in the Empty. Presumably he could negotiate with it like Death, and possibly he just took advantage of the loud chaos of Jack exploding, Death dying, the Empty apparently being super pissed, etc. to sneak in and make off with Lucifer. - Also WHY DO ALL THE ARCHANGEL FIGHTS IN THIS SHOW SUCK ASS???? - “I haven’t been in a battle like that in several centuries,” Michael says, as if he just fought the Battle of the Blackwater in Game of Thrones, and not what appeared to be the archangel equivalent of Mario Kart.

And climax/last scene: - But the best moment of the episode is when they GET BACK UP BLOODY AND HOLDING ONTO EACH OTHER AND ABSOLUTELY BEAMING BECAUSE THEIR LITTLE BOY IS ABOUT TO BECOME GOD. - Also, I like the music in this scene. And it seems like it’s the same place they used to film the end of Season 12/beginning of Season 13, which was probably peak Dabb era, ngl. (Jensen as Michael was also great.) - I also like that Jack and Chuck are both wearing light jackets, but Jack’s is a leeeeeetle whiter. - Chuck looking at the blank book is that moment in every writer’s life, when they’re like, “NOOOOOO, the computer DELETED EVERYTHING I WROTE.” - “Dean Winchester, the ultimate killer” You guys, 10 is Chuck’s favorite season. - Of course it is sweet that Cas’s last words seem to have had an effect on Dean, how he goes from “That’s (killing) all I know how to do” to “That’s not who I am.” I’m far from the first person to point that out though. - What happened to Amara is THE WORST. - Also, I am annoyed that Jack isn’t going home with them, because I really wanted him to be God, and a hands-off one, but I also wanted him to drive the Impala and solve crimes, ya know?  - Jared at least seems to understand that this ending is upsetting, because Sam has tears in his eyes, whereas Dean is just kind of like, “ah, he’s leaving.” Which is fine because DEAN AND JACK ARE NOT AS CLOSE AS SAM AND JACK, fight me. - Him disappearing into light is stupid, though. - At least Dean and Sam get to sit close to each other at the end. I wonder if that was the first scene shot after they got out of quarantine. - WHERE ARE THEY DRIVING? - Maybe to go see Jody. - WE GOT BELA AND CROWLEY AND ANNA IN THE MONTAGE HELLZ YEAH, ALSO ABBADON AND ELLEN AND RUFUS, but we also got fucking Asmodeus and Ketch and no Benny, what the fuck, Showalter?

So I have questions.

Some of them are unimportant, like how did people in restaurants at the end react when they found themselves looking at food that seems to have undergone days’ worth of rot in the blink of an eye? Also, you got a shot of a full airport at the end, but that begs the question: were there airplanes in the sky at the time Chuck snapped everyone away, and did they crash, and did the people on them get snapped back into crashed airplanes and was that not super confusing for them and did the airlines lose billions of dollars because all their planes crashed right before COVID shut them down anyway and if all that’s the case is it really any wonder they needed a bailout from the federal government?

But some of them are plot-relevant and could have helped an episode in desperate need of it.

For example, I want to know what’s going on with the Empty, and if Mark Pellegrino had talked about it for more than two seconds, I might not have hated every second he was on screen. Also, there are other things happening this episode. Like Jack walking around sucking life and “power” out of plants catches Dean and Sam’s attention immediately. We know that, because we see them noticing it and exchanging confused glances in the flashback at the end of the episode.

Here’s the thing though: Why not have that in the beginning? It’s not a Huge Reveal, and it would have given Jensen and Jared something to do in that stale boring beginning other than Make Sad Face. As pretty as Jensen and Jared are, and as good as they are at making sad faces, you cannot build an entire episode around that. 

Related, there isn’t actually much of a beat in the plot where it makes sense for them to figure out Michael will betray them for God. It seems like it will happen in that conversation between Dean and Michael when Michael expresses his hurt that Chuck let Lucifer out of the Empty before even asking for help. But at that point, it seems Sam and Dean have already come up with their plan. The flashback makes it seem as if they began to suspect Michael would betray them when Lucifer called him a cuck, something I think they made a plot point purely to have the word “cuck” in the episode for the third time.**

There are a few hopeful beats that show that bucklemming understand on some level that there needed to be some flow to this episode, such as the dog and Dean thinking he may have gotten Cas back. But I don’t think those are substitutes for showing Sam and Dean come up with their plan to defeat God. Even if you don’t want to reveal that they know Michael will betray them, you can still get one scene in there of them saying something like, “You think this’ll work?” if you just cut two minutes of Michael’s boring monologue in the church and/or Lucifer’s bullshit.

It follows this weird pattern of bucklemming once again seeming to not find Sam and Dean particularly interesting, so they don’t spend any time writing them DOING anything, or at least succeeding at anything, because they’d rather write Lucifer killing women and generally being an asshole.

So ... who cares, right? It’s bucklemming, they were bound to be mediocre-to-bad anyway, it kind of makes sense for Dabb to give them this episode because nepotism definitely makes it a best case scenario. And while I take issue with Dabb as a showrunner, I do think he’s great at standalone episodes and character stuff, so I’m not too terribly worried about next episode. I just think there were things about this episode that could have sucked less.

There ARE things about it that were fine, dare I say even good. It was in my notes, but I just want to emphasize that I LOVED the shot of Sam and Dean getting up bloody and broken, holding onto each other and grinning their asses off knowing that Chuck’s about to lose to Jack, and they get to see it! They may very well have gone into that fight expecting to die -- Chuck nearly just zapped them from existence, which would have still unleashed God-power for Jack to soak up.

The ending scene is pretty good, with Sam and Dean seeming like they’re still pretty beaten down, but trying to get it together. That’s more Jensen and Jared’s acting than anything bucklemming wrote, but it’s still good. The montage is good (although I will say for like the third time, where. the fuck. was Benny?) 

Jensen’s acting over the dog was SO SOFT (doesn’t he have a dog?). I half-expected the dog to run to him at the end, which would have been cute.

There are also things that were ... potentially good, if they’d been brought up correctly? I actually really like that Jack is going to be “hands-off” (although I like less that he and Sam will never see each other again, but Dabb did say it was going to be a bittersweet ending, so ....). 

I also -- and God, I’m going to get hate mail for saying this -- don’t mind that he didn’t bring Cas back. That highlights the difference between him and Chuck. Chuck brings back Sam and Dean (and, in Season 5 at least, Cas) over and over again, not out of love, but just to throw them back into their exhausting existence. In contrast, Jack NOT bringing anyone back (except the people who’d been snapped out of existence, which I would argue is more about putting the world on its proper course again, as opposed to “violating the natural order,” as Billie would put it). He knows he has to let people go. You could argue that’s always been his arc -- he and Cas even talk about how hard it will be for them to one day lose Sam and Dean back in Season 14 when they think Dean is dying.

But I wish there had been dialogue exploring THAT instead of the weird vague stuff about how he would always be a part of them. It doesn’t have to be anything super analytical like what I just wrote, it just has to be him saying, “I understand that in order to be a just god, I have to let things go and be at peace.” 

(However, if the reason they DIDN’T go that direction is they didn’t want Dean to be like, “You know, he’s right,” next episode and not rescue Cas from the Empty, then I’m fine with them leaving that out. Screw the natural order, Dean -- go rescue Cas from the Empty!)

I also really really really want to get some sense that Sam’s faith has been rewarded. We got a tiny glimmer of that this episode in the hushed, awed way Jared delivers the line, “Are you really ... him?” Sam has always been the one with faith in a just and loving God, and one of the things that aggravated me about the end of Season 14 was his faith being so blatantly not rewarded, in favor of promoting Dean’s more cynical take on God.

The show has always, since the very first season, raised questions about where God is, whether his will is just, and how we know we’re following it, and the main characters all have different answers to that -- Sam’s being the more faithful, optimistic view of “God is good”, Dean’s being the more critical “If God is good then why do bad things happen?”, and, most interestingly, Cas’ viewpoint largely fluctuating with his own sense of identity and self-worth. The point is, we had all three of these opinions on God, without the show ever explicitly saying which one was right.

Until very recently, I thought it should have stayed that way. But now I love the idea that Sam’s faith in God was rewarded not by Chuck, but by Jack -- the very boy he took under his wing and raised as his own son, the boy who understands that he is good and that people are good largely because SAM TAUGHT HIM THEY CAN BE. It’s just so beautiful, and I’m getting more and more happy about this ending as I write about it, actually, so maybe I don’t entirely hate Jack’s ending after all.

That was a happier note than I planned on ending this on. I guess that is how you stop worrying and tolerate bucklemming. 

Goodbye, bucklemming. I hated many of your episodes, but I will miss you and your weird, inconsistent writing that was so entertaining to pick apart and analyze and make fun of. I hope you find some cop shows where you can churn out more mediocrity and make some money. And in the meantime, stop killing off women.

*Yet another example from this season of the writers intentionally writing a bad episode to highlight the fact that Chuck is a bad writer. NEWSFLASH DABB: Bad writing is still bad writing, I don’t care if the villain of the story is the writer, I still don’t want to watch it if it’s bad.

**Which is such a bizarre insult to use. Isn’t it slang for a guy who’s wife cheats on him? I swear I’m not innocent or sheltered, I have just literally never heard anyone use that insult in a real context in my entire life. 

[angelkurenai]

Imagine playing a game during an interview with your secret boyfriend and costar, Jensen, and teasing him and saying dirty jokes all the time to embarrass him.

“Welcome! Welcome. We're back here after the break with two members of the cast of Supernatural, Jensen Ackles and (Y/n) (Y/l/n) and we're on round three of our game and so far the lady is on the lead.” Jimmy looked straight at the camera “Jensen this will be your last chance. If you get this point, which counts for two, there will be a final round to determinethe winner! Are we ready?”

“Yup!” you grinned, glancing at your co-star and secret fiance with a challenging look.

“I was going to say yes but judging by the determined look on her face it seems like I'm already screwed so eh might as well give it a try. In my defense though-” he looked at Jimmy “This is totally not fair. You put me against (Y/n) and not Jared or Misha and now it's totally impossible for me to focus! Like, how do you expect me to win if just by looking at her I forget my own name?! I can't even think straight, let alone get a right answer out of this.”

“Are you sweet-talking her into giving you the last round or is it my idea?” Jimmy narrowed his eyes at the actor “It's like you're only saying this to win the game or something.

“Oh nah he's not.” Jared shook his head, standing by Jimmy's side after his and Misha's own game was over “You should just come by and spend a day on set with us when (Y/n)'s around. Then you'll know just how true his words are.”

“If you're also looking for the definition of fanboying, there you have it. Right there. Jensen Ackles!” Misha who was also standing next to Jimmy, pointed out.

“What can I say?” Jensen shrugged innocently “Guilty! But I also mean, as if that isn't enough, the things she says are not making it anywhere near easy! I just see it in her eyes-” he glanced at you, eyes narrowed and suspicious “She's going to bring her A game this time, she's going to tease me so bad- Oh hell, who knows what she'll come up with, this time!”

“Oh hon, you know me so well!” you chuckled, before looking down at the big white box with the two round openings on each side able to fit a hand just like the two previous ones, with only an opening on the front for the audience and cameras to see “But- but it just comes naturally you know? So I promise I will try to- to keep it under control.”

“Alright try to play fair you two.” Jimmy said with a chuckle of his own before looking down at his notes “We've got the hint here and it of course concerns an animal too-”

“Of course! Why put something from the show that doesn't breathe instead of something that moves and can bite our hands off huh?” Jensen said with wide eyes and you chuckled.

“Where would be the fun in that?” you said laughing and he shot you a look “Your expression makes everything so worth it!”

“So just like with the previous rounds you could just choose to feel what's inside the box or I'll give you the hint befo-”

“Give it. Give it right away, you don't even have to ask!” Jensen said, ever so eagerly to hear the hint in hopes that he wouldn't have to get his hand inside the box and feel whatever was in there.

“Someone's scared it's gonna be a snake?” you raised an eyebrow at him, giggling when he pursed his lips and shook his head with wide eyes, taking a step away from the box “Careful your Dean is showing!” you pointed out “Not that it would be the first time and not that I would complain!” you added with a smirk and his lips instantly pulled into a smile, as his head lowered.

“Of course you wouldn't. Of course.” he laughed slightly to himself, remembering very well just how much you loved when he let his Dean show a bit more than a minute or two. Didn't mean that, no matter how used he was to it, he would be any less shy about your preferences in bed. Especially when very few people even knew about your relationship and engagement.

“Alright-” Jimmy laughed “This will be very interesting till the last moment. Since you want the hint so much I'm gonna give it to you. It is: They wouldn't let me star in Jurassic World but at least my ancestors, the velociraptors, did. One day, I will follow in their steps. All it takes is evolution.”

“That's what it says? The animal said that?” Jensen asked with a totally blank face and Jimmy nodded his head with a laugh.

“Yes it did.”

“And that's the hint. Oh wow, I'm definitely gonna win this round.” he said sarcastically, shaking his head afterwards “That's- What does it even mean? How the hell's that supposed to help in any sort of wa-”

“I got it!” you exclaimed after having been silent for a couple minutes.

“You got it? What do you mean you got it? Already?” Jensen's eyes widened as he looked at you in shock and maybe a bit of fear. If you won, you were the one that were going to choose his punishment and given that he was wearing that great white button-up shirt underneath his suit jacket, you both knew what you got in mind the second you heard it. It involved lots of water and for that you were set on winning.

“Yes! I mean, at least I think I do.” your smile fluttered a bit “What you're saying is that this thing, this animal, is closely related to dinosaurs right? Like, it's Blue's modern-day version huh?”

“It is the closest real thing you'll get to a velociraptor, yes. And dinosaurs if you wanna say in general.” Jimmy nodded his head.

“Oh then I think I'm 100% sure that I've got this. Can I, like, write my answer down now and wait for his answer. You said we don't have to be that specific about the animal, could be the general species, yeah?”

“Well, yeah, of curse. Only if you're 100% certain, though.”

“I think I am. Besides-” you grabbed the small white board that you used every time to write down your answers “Even if he does end up getting the points instead, he still stands no chance against me in the next round so-” you shrugged, placing the board down “I either way win!”

“Look at the satisfaction on her face, oh gosh, I'm so screwed-” Jensen made a face.

“Maybe a bit. But can I take a look now that I've given my answer?” you asked and got a nod from the host of the show. Moving to the front of the box you looked at the small baby chicken and instantly squealed “Aw my gosh, this is so adorable! Is it a boy or a girl?”

“It's actually a boy as far as we know.” Jimmy said with a laugh.

“A baby boy, oh my gosh he's so damn cute! Can I keep him? I wanna keep him now!” you placed a hand over your mouth “Hey little one, hello! Aren't you adorable? Yes you are!”

“No spoilers please, though.” Jimmy said with a laugh.

“Oh she's not spoiling anything. It could literally be a snake in there, like a python even, and she'd say it's adorable. So I'm still left clueless.” Jensen pointed out with a shrug.

“Wait- ait did you get it right?” Jared was the one to ask the important question and you straightened your back, nodding your head with a grin.

“Yep! Jensen, hon, you're so getting wet, guy get that bucket of water please!” you placed your hands on your hips “Now you'll finally know how it feels like.” you grinned and he lowered his head as he laughed.

“Oh here we go!” he mumbled “Chuck help me.” he breathed out soon afterwards “Ok ok-” he let out a sharp breath “Here we go. Let's focus on the game.” he still placed his hands on top of the box, ever so adorably-scared of really putting his hand inside of it because who knew what could be there, right?

“Come on, come on you can do it!” you encouraged but he gave you a look because he knew you didn't mean it “Oh please, I'm just trying to be nice here even if you have no chance in winning this.” you shrugged.

“Alright, so let's sum up things before I go for it. You said it's related to dinosaurs and (Y/n) thing it's cute. But she giggled, which shouldn't be a good sign, right?”

“I only giggled at the idea of you wet for me, Jens. Can't help but feel eager about that!” you shrugged as the audience cheered “Yeah?” you asked them “Yeah, they know how it feels. I love this!”

“Of course they do.” he shook his head in embarrassment “But at this point I'm too scared by what could be in there to care about anything else!”

“Aww but why? I told you it's adorable!”

“Not helping, (Y/n)! We both know it's a freaking snake, ok!?” his voice came out slightly high-pitched and you laughed.

“Oh calm down, will you? But I can't tell you for sure what it really is. I think you know what you have to do-” you motioned to the box, the smirk growing on your lips “It's simple. Touch it.”

“Really?” Jensen still snickered despite how he tried to keep a serious face.

“Why Jens, something sounds familiar to you?” you raised an eyebrow, flirty mood on for good and you knew that sooner or later it would get to him in the most satisfying – for you – way possible “Cause if you ask me, it certainly does.”

“Can we just focus on this game for once?” he made a cute but certainly very hot face, the combination of which made you bite your lip.

“I am, I am. I don't know where your head is at, Ackles.” you raised your hands in surrender, making the audience laugh and Jensen look down while biting his own lip.

“(Y/n)” he whined a bit and before he could say anything, you really beat him at it with another comment.

“And oh boy, were have I heard that before hm?” you grinned “Oh yes, last night.” and as you expected this one made the fans go crazy... and probably Jared and Misha as well.

Jensen laughed, hiding his face behind his hand “Will you just not?”

“Hmm lemme think about it-” you pondered at it for barely a few seconds “Nope! 'Sides it's lovely to see you say my name in all possible ways and this game is the perfect opportunity. Speaking of which-” you got closer to him with a seemingly sweet smile “You know what you have to do, Jensen.”

He groaned a bit, looking at the box with a deep frown “Alright, one; how sure are we that this is not dangerous? And two; please, for the love of, don't say that that sound was familiar too.”

“Well, I wasn't gonna say it!” you giggled “And if you wanna focus on the game, fine by me, you know what you have to do! There it is, Jensen, it's waiting for you! Come on, go ahead, touch it!”

“But what if it's really a snake? What could be closer to dinos- maybe a lizard?”

“You won't know unless you get a bit closer, come on. You know you wanna feel it come- Oh wow, again, last night!” you teased and you knew that with the fans going crazy in the crowd with all the cheering,

“Oh yeah of course.” he laughed although it didn't take away his nerves “But what if it bites me?”

“Really?” you got serious, crossing your arms over your chest “Jensen, you of all people should know it better than anyone. Anything with a mouth can bite.”

“Oh she's really going there!” Jared exclaimed as the audience cheered and Jensen laughed in embarrassment, shaking his head for the millionth time.

“I love how I don't have to say anything else in this! For the first time, I just introduce everyone and let it all take place. You guys should be more often on the show!” Jimmy laughed.

“Oh please, can't have any more heart attacks in less than a month!” Jensen said with wide eyes and you laughed “It's enough that I'm freaking out over whatever the heck is in there!”

“Come on, Jensen, you know what you gotta do. Just touch it, you know you want to!” and you were no longer even remotely trying to make it look like you were talking about the game.

“But what if it's poisonous!” he said a bit scared.

“It won't kill you, come on.” you insisted.

“But you don't know that for sure. It might- it might not be poisonous but could bite me, inflict a wound and that could get contaminated and- and-”

“Oh Jensen, please!” you exclaimed “Just put you hand there and you know where to take it!”

You could see him fighting the urge to smile so bad “But what if it, like, grabs hold of my hand with- with it's mouth and doesn't let like that video you showed me of that-”

“Oh my Gosh, Jensen, just put it in!” you ended up exclaiming, and this time you really left no room for anyone in the room to catch a single breath as they burst in laughter. The fans even got up from their seats and cheered for you, while Jensen only held his stomach in laughter.

“This-” he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he threw an arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple “This is why I love this woman so much!”

“And, again, let me say-” you looked at the camera “So much of last night!”

.

..

…

“You know, Jensen, we're so glad she didn't say something else right there!” Jared said with a laugh.

“Oh like him getting it in the hole? I could so easily do so!” you pointed out with a grin.

“You had to say that, didn't you?” Jensen dragged a hand down his face “Oh my gosh, fine. Fine! The game is yours, you win, I- I don't even have the mind to think what's in there right now.”

“You know I could just tell you but-” you snickered “What comes to my mind right now is not the most appropriate thing and you will think I'm still teasing you so-”

“What are you-” he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Honey, really, don't take this the wrong way, but-” you took a small breath “It's a cock.”

And oh was his reaction the most priceless moment you ever had in your entire relationship. And it was thankfully caught on camera for you to watch over and over again whenever you or the fans wanted to.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Devil in Disguise, Pt. 2

Dean Winchester x Reader

Part 1

Summary: Dean’s on the run from escaping a prison where a job went south. Sam is in the wind. With nowhere to go and an injured leg, Dean takes refuge in the only place he could find—an old remote cabin. Normally empty for long stretches, Dean happens to stumble in the same day that the cabin’s owner returns. After a rocky first encounter, Dean comes to believe that a distant connection they share could be the thing that saves his life and gets him back to Sam. But will it happen before Y/N’s finance, a prison guard at Green River, finds the secret she’s hiding in the woods?

A/N: The fic was inspired by the song “The Devil’s Backbone” by The Civil Wars. This is part 2 of ?? written for multiple bingo cards that go for both chapters. Set around S2 (Folson Prison Blues). New tag lists are at the end of the fic. I have tag spots open, let me know if you want to jump on or off for SPN (Dean and/or Sam, or RPF for Jensen)

Warnings: (Part One): Language, Mild angst, Hints of abuse 

WC: 4.9K

*Banner created by me. I do not own any of these pictures.

[Y/N] stood at the foot of the bed and examined her handiwork of cleaning and properly bandaging Dean’s wound. All the while thinking about the “BOLO” that came over the CB. Sure this stranger said he knew Deacon, but did he? Was he really who he said he was? Her eyes flickered from the fevered man in the bed to the task she was currently taking on, trying to figure out what her instincts were telling her. When she was satisfied, she moved around the room, cleaning up the leftovers from the bandages, along with the jumpsuit and discarded them in a big black trash bag. Leaving it in the corner of the room, she returned to the foot post, and leaned on it, wrapping both hands tightly around the frame. 

“Ok, you're patched up, you’ve got penicillin and soup is on the stove. Time to tell me a story, Dean. What was the job at the prison?” 

Dean used the strength in his upper arms to sit up straighter on the bed and watched her curiously for a beat before speaking. She wished she could read his thoughts and know exactly what he was considering, but all she could hope for would be his full cooperation and the complete truth.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” he asked simply, and leaned back against the old, wrought iron bedpost. 

Her eyes snapped up quickly. “Ghosts?”

“Yeah. I don’t mean Casper the friendly, either. I’m talking about vengeful ones. Ones that use their anger to kill people.”

[Y/N] felt her throat run dry and was grateful she was already holding onto the iron arch of the frame. “Yeah,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “I believe in ‘em.”

“That makes this easier…” he mumbled to himself before continuing, “but the truth is, doesn’t matter if you believe. Because they’re real. So are vampires, werewolves, demons… all the nasty, vile monsters you can think of… all real and the prison had one that was killing inmates. Deacon called on us to help get rid of it.”

“Deacon… of course,” she whispered almost incoherently and expelled a long, slow breath. 

“You never did say how you knew him,” Dean said, and shrugged defensively when her gaze snapped back at him, flashing a warning not press his luck. “Just sayin’...”

“I’ve known Deacon since I was a kid. He used to come to my dad’s church.” There was so much more to it, but she wasn’t ready to share all her intel. “So, continue… ghost in the prison…”

“Right, so, Deacon called us in to figure out who it was. He thought we could get more info as prisoners then he ever would as the warden. The spook was going after his guys, he had to do something.”

“But you must have done something to get yourselves locked up. Deacon couldn’t just smuggle two people into Green River and pass them off as prisoners, warden or not. So, just breaking in somewhere was enough to get you thrown in prison? You were a little vague on the charges.”

“That’s… complicated and not relevant here. What is, is that we figured out who the ghost was, and Deacon was breaking us out to go--”

“Salt and burn…” she said, not meaning to interrupt but her blank expression and clouded eyes told Dean that she was suddenly lost a memory.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed. “How did you--are you a hunter?”

“Huh? What? No,” she stammered and pushed off the iron frame. “No, not a hunter, but I know what hunters are.”

“How?”

“Story for another time,” she said, waving him off. “Please. continue… how did you go from Deacon breaking you out, to bleeding in my cabin while pointing my own gun at me?”

“He opened a panel for us to escape through, was going to bring us out the rear exit. We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere and went out the wrong doors. Shit went sideways fast, had to improvise and we got separated. Sam took off in the direction of the cemetery where the body was buried and my only way out was the other direction. Spotlights caught me as I hit the tree line and got shot. Ran as far as I could… damn near through the night. Now here I am.”

[Y/N] just nodded slowly, as if she was trying to comprehend everything he was telling her. She began to pace the room, but not with any vigor. It was methodical and slow, each step seemed to be taken with a thoughtful purpose as she went over his story in her mind. 

“Who was it?” she asked finally, looking up to meet the pair of dull green eyes looking back. She had a moment where she wondered how they would actually shine when their owner was bogged down with fever because even as muted as they were, they were still beautiful.

“A nurse who died in a prison riot years ago. They started construction on an old wing of the unit, and it stirred her up.”

“Oh,” [Y/N] mused, then settled on the end of the bed, the opposite side of where Dean lay. She brought her knee up to rest on the mattress and twisted her body to face him. 

“And your brother… he took care of it?”

“I sure hope so. I’m hoping he found his way to the car and got over there. Kinda hard to check up on that, though.” He motioned towards his leg, his whole expression shrugging with a hint of exhausted sarcasm.

“What cemetery?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to check, that’s why. You may not be able to, but I can. I need to do a supply run to town anyway. So, which cemetery.”

“Uh… Green Valley, but… lady… I don’t think its a good idea. Our PD, if she was forced to talk, that place is gonna be swimming in uniforms.”

“It's fine. I have family buried there. I can always say I’m going to visit them. What was the nurses’ name?”

“Glockner,” Dean replied but shook his head as he did. “It's okay. I’m sure Sam got there to take care of it. Right now he’s probably free and clear and freaking out trying to figure out where I am.”

“[Y/N],” she spoke up softly. “My name is [Y/N].”

“Thanks for saving my ass, [Y/N],” Dean smiled, relieved.

“Thanks for not shooting me, Dean.”

Across the queen size bed, they shared a brief, yet slightly intense gaze before each of them broke away. [Y/N] found him intriguing, and without doubt, believed what he was telling her. Her instincts may have been quiet before, but after hearing what he had to say, and knowing what she knew about Deacon, [Y/N] knew that she could believe his story. Besides, with Dean’s confidence in the man’s voucher, she really felt that she could trust what he was saying. That made her want to do whatever she could to help him get better, and then get back to his brother. 

“Where can I find your brother?” she asked. “Where’s home? Would he go there?”

“Home is long gone. We never stay any place too long.”

“Damn. Then how do I find him?”

Dean thought for a minute. All their usual ways of communication after separation wouldn’t work. He figured Sam would have a new burner by now, but not like he could get the number. Any cop in a hundred-mile radius would be looking for the Impala, and even Deacon was most likely being watched like a hawk. 

“Right now, I don’t think we can. Let me fight off this bitch of an infection, and then when my head is clear, I can figure things out.”

“Okay,” she relented and went to stand from the bed. Before she reached the doorway that led to the kitchen, she turned and faced him one last time. “You can stay as long as you need to. Take this room. I’ll stay in the loft. But, Dean... “

“Yeah?”

“If you ever point my own gun, or any gun at me again, I won’t hesitate to shoot you once I get it back.”

Twenty-four hours later, and Dean’s fever was still ragging. He was semi-aware of her sitting in the rocker placed in the corner for good stretches of the night, and when the sun peeked through the thin lace curtains it caused black spots to pulse behind his eyes. Somehow, [Y/N] could tell, and she moved to pull the heavier curtain closed.

Dean was also vaguely aware that she kept putting a cool cloth to his forehead and checked his leg a few times. At some point during the long night, he remembered wondering why she was going through all this instead of just getting on her CB and bringing the cops to her door.

Even with no clock present, when Dean finally came fully to consciousness, he could tell that it was sometime in the early afternoon. The birds weren’t as loud, and the brightness of the day had moved higher in the sky. He was able to push himself up to sitting, though it caused a burst of pain to ripple through his injured leg. 

“Sonofabitch!” Dean grunted through gritted teeth, as he tried to swing the leg off the bed. The motion of which caused a swirl of blurry vision, his head swimming in static and black spots again. “Nope,” he said to himself and moved his leg back to where it had been. 

Dean was still for a few minutes, making sure the pain evened out and that he wasn’t going to pass out again. Once he was sure he could focus, he listened closely to any sounds coming from out in the cabin. 

It was silent. But that’s when he noticed the folded scrap of paper sitting on the bedside that had his name written in a blunt, but feminine script.

Dean,

Making a supply run. Stay put. If you can manage to move, there’s cold water in the fridge. If not, there’s a room temp bottle and your meds by this note. Also a protein bar. See if you can choke that down. Be back soon.

[Y/N]

She had done as promised, and left the water bottle and pills behind the note, along with the protein bar. Dean felt himself smile despite his deteriorating condition. He made quick work of powering through the food, pills, and water, and then settled back onto the bed and closed his eyes. When they fluttered open again, the sun continued its descent into the sky, and when he peeked out of the curtains again, there was a soft twinge of pink and orange sky acting as a backdrop to the autumn colored trees. 

Noise from the kitchen snapped his attention back, and he instinctively reached under the pillow for a gun that wasn’t there. He had just enough time to register a slew of curses in his mind when the bedroom door opened and [Y/N] stood there with a tray, and a pleased smile on her lips. 

“Welcome back,” she smiled and moved over to the bed, carefully setting the tray down on the open side, then moving towards Dean to help prop him up. 

He waved her off and was able to get himself to sitting, but his eyes, not so dull anymore, watched her carefully. 

“Why are you doing all this? What do you get out of it?” he asked, unable to hide his curiosity over her generous nature. 

“I don’t get anything out of it other than helping you not die. But I am doing this because I believe you,” she said, and delicately lifted the material of the sweatpants to check on his wound. “When I was ten, I thought I saw a ghost in my dad’s church.” She paused, and seemed satisfied with how the bandages looked, and carefully pulled the pant leg back down. She retrieved the tray, kicked open the legs on it and placed it carefully over Dean’s lap as she continued her story. 

“Scared the shit out of me, and of course, he didn’t believe me. People started getting hurt. Workers who were repainting the outside of the rectory… an old lady pushed down the stairs by some unseen force. Stuff like that.”

Dean nodded in understanding and made the attempt to eat the soup and crackers she brought him. 

“Anyway, after the maintenance guy died, that’s when things got even weirder.”

“Weirder how?”

“Deacon had been a member of the parish for as long as I can remember. Never really thought much of him except for he was a Marine and that he worked at the jail. Nice guy, always smiled at me on Sundays. One night, I was hiding in the pews, reading some crap I shouldn’t have been, and I heard Deacon and some guy with him, arguing with my dad. Something about needing to burn something. Whatever Deacon wanted… some kind of old jewelry that was kept in the church safe… Dad refused. I was scared because I distinctly remember that guy with Deacon saying that unless they did, the spirit wouldn’t rest and could eventually kill the preacher, or even his family.”

Dean’s mind was racing a mile a minute. Despite the fever that had been stifling much logical thought in the last day, he was able to put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

“That guy, what did he look like?”

“Why is that important?”

“It just is!” he snapped, and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry… can you just try and remember?”

[Y/N] closed her eyes and went back in her memories. “He was tall, dark hair, dark eyes. Not a beard exactly, but more than a few days beard, you know? He had these crazy dimples, too. I remember thinking they were as big as craters.”

“Holy shit,” Dean snorted in disbelief. “I think that was my dad. Was his name, John?” Her attention snapped back up and he could tell just by the look on her face that it was.

“Yeah, his name was John. He’s how I know what hunters are. That night, after my dad locked up, I stayed in the church. I was so scared of a ghost killing me that I went and stole the necklace from the safe. I rode my bike all the way to Deacon’s house and he was super pissed to see me there. Until I pulled it from my pocket…”

“Lemme guess... my dad snatched it from you and barked at you to go home?”

“Close, but not quite. I got to hear a snippet of their conversation, first. John said something about salting and burning the bones and that it didn’t work. The necklace had to be the link. Then he barked at me to go home.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I went home. Deacon and I never spoke of it again, but he always looked at me a little differently on Sundays. Almost like he was proud.”

“So, that’s why you believed me so easily. That talk doesn’t always go very smoothly for civilians.”

“Yeah well, guess you lucked out running into me then, huh?”

Dean exhaled steadily through slightly pursed lips and nodded. “You ain’t kiddin’.”

“I grabbed better meds for you in town this morning. Try and eat some and then you can take those. If that can bring your temperature down I think you’ll be alright. I checked your leg while you were sleeping, changed the bandages. You got lucky the bullet went clean through.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this, really.”

“It’s nothing. Just eat and rest.” 

She turned to leave and Dean realized he didn’t want her too. He wanted her to stay and talk to him; he liked when she was around. Maybe it was because they had some sort of distant connection through Deacon, or maybe it was simply because of her. Most likely, it was just his fever making him not want to be alone. But right then, he wanted nothing more than for her to stay and sit beside him.

“[Y/N], wait... “ he paused, leaning forward from the pillows until she turned around and slowly brought her (y/c) eyes to meet his. “Would you stay? Keep me company, maybe?”

She paused at the door, her left hand slowly sliding down the old wood trim of the frame. Dean saw her body relax a little, and when she finally turned back around to face him, her features were softer than they had been before. He was struck, not for the first time, by how beautiful she was in the dim light of the room’s light. When she turned and went back to the rocker in the corner, then dragged it closer to the bed, Dean happily leaned back against the pillows, relieved she was staying and worked on consuming the food she brought him.

The next morning, Dean woke with his head clearer than it had been since getting shot in the first place. Overnight he had sweat straight through the shirt he had borrowed and would just about kill for a clean one; maybe even a shower.

[Y/N] knocked lightly on the door before opening it just enough to talk through. 

“Decent?” she asked and waited for a response before entering.

“Yeah, good,” Dean replied. Once she was in, he approached the idea of a shower. “So, what are the chances I’m healed enough to take a hot shower?”

“I doubt you could stand on that long enough without support of some kind.”

Dean groaned and rolled his head back. “Dammit. I feel like I’ve been slimed. Just, head to toe gross. You know?”

“Yeah, I can imagine. I could pull a kitchen chair into the bathroom, you could give yourself a sponge bath at least.”

Dean bit his tongue from replying with some half sarcastic, half flirtatious comment. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’ll set it up for you, then I was going to get a fire going. Wanted to see if maybe you wanted to venture from the room today. Seems like maybe your fever broke overnight. Getting up and moving around would be good for you; a little of it, anyway.”

“I’m all for it,” he smiled, genuinely excited for both the change of scenery and the chance to spend more time with her. 

“Great. We really need to figure out a plan here, too,” she said softly followed by a side-eyed glance that didn’t go unnoticed by Dean. He even thought maybe, she looked a little disappointed. She wasn’t always the easiest person to read and he had only known her through fevered days so far. Despite all that, Dean could feel his sharp senses returning, and they were telling him this girl was one he could both count on and trust.

[Y/N] disappeared into the bathroom, and could be heard moving some things around, then reappeared. She seemed like she was about to speak when they both heard it. 

A running motor. The sound of a door being slammed closed. 

“Shit!”

Her eyes went wide with fear, and Dean felt his heart sink but his survival instinct kicked in. As quickly as he could move, he twisted his hips and let both legs fall to the floor. Standing quickly, a little too quickly, the wounded leg instantly buckled, but [Y/N] was right there to catch him. Dean slung an arm over her shoulders as she helped him limp across the floor.

“What? Do you know who it is?” he asked through the bolts of pain that coursed up his body from the sudden movement on his leg.

“Yeah, it could only be Derek,” she said, her stomach instantly going sour. 

“Derek?”

“My finance. Also, prison guard a Green River.”

“Well shit,” Dean huffed as she opened the bathroom door and nearly shoved him inside. “Talk about a coincidence.”

Ignoring his quip, she tried to think about what was her best course of action. “The linen closet is deep enough for you to stand in. Go in and shut the door. It can be locked from the inside. Lock it and not a sound,” she whispered desperately. 

Dean nodded and limped his way carefully to the linen closet. [Y/N] dashed about the room, cleaning up any remnants of the escapee’s presence and tossed it under the bed. Her heart was racing, her hands were trembling with fear; not just for Derek possibly discovering Dean, but for her own safety as well. 

Just as she finished hiding the evidence, and stepped into the kitchen, the front door to the cabin opened and the man she least wanted to see was making his entrance.

“You forget how to answer your phone all of a sudden?!” he barked, taking several hulking steps through the living room and into the kitchen.

“You know I don’t get service up here,” she replied calmly, an amazing feat given how badly she was shaking internally. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

Derek snorted in exasperation. “Are you dumb?! Didn’t you hear the CB at least?”

[Y/N] refrained from responding harshly, knowing it would only set him off more. “I may have been outside. Or on a supply run. What’s so important that I have to know?”

“Prisoners escaped. Two of ‘em,” he replied and rubbed a hand over his face down to his beard, something he only did when he was frustrated. Letting his hand fall back at his side with a slap against his outer thigh. “Pack your shit, I came up here to bring you home. No reason that you need to be up here with two escapees on the loose and weather rollin’ in.” 

“Haven’t seen a sign of any escapees this far out,” she shrugged absently, going about unloading the extra supplies she had grabbed when she went to town earlier. This didn’t go unnoticed by Derek. 

“Seems like quite the stockpile for one person for a weekend,” he grumbled, eyeing up the box of supplies on the table. “Might as well put them all back in, 'cause you’re leaving with me now.”

[Y/.N]’s head whipped around and up to meet Derek’s dark and brooding gaze. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, it’s why I’m here. You didn’t answer, so I came to get you. This is no place for a girl to be, especially alone, with two escaped felons on the loose.”

Derek grabbed her arm roughly, but her quick reflexes kicked in before he could solidify his grip. 

“First off, I am not a girl, I am a perfectly capable woman. Second, don’t you ever grab me like that again. I warned you, Derek. I am not going to be some pushover you can boss around.”

Their eyes locked and for a brief moment, she didn’t know if he would relent or go to grab her again, so she prepared herself just in case. Derek’s large frame relaxed as he backed off, pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, and plopped down into it.

“What the Hell are you doin’ up here [Y/N]. Ain’t nothing up here for you but a bunch of cobwebs and bad memories. There are two escaped felons, and we ain’t talkin’ bout no drug charges or simple B ‘n E. They were in for murder… grave desecration. These are two really sick sons of bitches. Weather’s rollin’ in on top of it. Just seems dumb to be up here when it ain’t necessary.”

[Y/N] went back to unpacking her supplies midway through his exasperated rant. Doing her best to ignore the word murder, she did her best to focus on the supplies and ignore Derek’s concentrated gazed watching her every move. 

“But yet, you’re still unpackin’. Do I gotta call your daddy? Get him up here to put you in your place?” Derek asked his questions and averted his eyes, keeping them transfixed on the side of the box before slowly bringing them back up to see the fear he had hoped to see on her face. When there wasn’t a trace of it, his brow furrowed and he tilted his head curiously. “What? Preacher Steve doesn’t put the fear of God in you anymore?”

[Y/N] snorted a laugh and took out the last can of tomato paste before she finally turned back to give him her full attention. She leaned in, dangerously close to her fiance and knew that what she was about to say could earn her a pop in the mouth. But something about spending the last forty-eight hours with Dean Winchester had somehow instilled the ability to not give a fuck.

“Fuck. You,” she whispered, a slight, rueful smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll be back to town when I fucking feel like it. If you’re bored, Derek, call Rita from work. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to assist you with whatever you need. Now, get out.”

Her knowing glare unnerved Derek, making him shift uncomfortably. He waited another beat and stood from the old wooden chair that groaned gratefully as he removed his hefty size from its worn frame. He wanted to say something--drew in a breath to do just that--but the crackle of the radio he wore on his hip made him stop, and simply expel the air in a huff and reach for the walkie as the voice on the other end was unintelligible when mixed with the static of the shitty reception.

“I’ll go. But I won’t be gone long. When I come back,  you’re coming home.” As he went to leave, he was about to press the button to reply, but paused and turned back around. “If you see or hear anything suspicious, you pick up the damn CB and call me!”

Ignoring his command, she turned her back to him and started putting away the cans of food into the pantry. 

“Did you hear me?!” he bellowed, making her shoulders stiffen and a shiver at the sharpness of his tone run down her spine. 

“Yes, Derek,” she replied without turning around. Gripping the counter with white knuckles, she waited until she heard the slam of the front door before exhaling the breath she didn’t realize she was holding it. 

“Goddammit,” she whispered and let her head fall between her shoulders. The entire interaction left her feeling cold and lost in a place she hadn’t gone to in years. But now, thanks to the man she was supposed to be marrying, she was knee-deep in memories that clawed at her insides to come spilling out. 

[Y/N] didn’t hear Dean emerge from the bathroom, nor did she hear him limp his way across the bedroom, then out into the kitchen. She was so lost in the recesses of her early years on the Earth, that she didn’t even feel his presence until he was standing right behind her. She didn’t jump or scare, she simply looked up into his furrowed, curious brow, and kind green eyes, and laid her head against his chest. 

“You heard all that?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,”’  he rasped, “I heard. What I don’t get is why the Hell you would marry a douchebag like that.” 

“Long story, not one I particularly feel like telling at the moment.” She regrettably moved her head off his chest and caught his briefly caught his gaze. 

His eyes were slightly narrowed on her, his brow still showing lines of concern, and his full lips were set in a contemplative pout. She thought maybe the instinct to rest her head on him had soured him towards her. 

“Sorry,” she said, feeling suddenly stupid and quickly busying herself with the task at hand. 

She saw Dean wobble from the corner of her eye and dropped the cans she was holding onto help steady him. He draped an arm around her shoulder and she when she helped him sit in one of the kitchen chairs, he passed her a grateful smile. 

“Sorry for what?” he asked, wincing at the pain radiating from his leg. 

She crouched down and saw the fresh blood coming through the leg of his pants. “For… I don’t know… a moment of weakness I guess. One of your stitches popped,” she said changing the subject. “Sit tight. Let me get the first aid kit and patch this up. Then maybe I can wrap it and you can get that shower.”

[Y/N] started walking into the bedroom to retrieve the supplies that had been kicked under the bed in a rush when Dean reached out and caught her wrist. 

“Hey, you have nothing to say sorry for. Everything you’ve done for me…” he trailed off and shrugged, his expressive lips pushing up into a small, cocky smirk. “...least I can do is give you a place to lay your weary head.”

She snorted a laugh and shook her head. Despite his pallid complexion and current pain levels, Dean was flirting with her. Whether it was just to elicit a smile after the recent encounter with Derek, or because he was genuinely flirting, she didn’t know. Truth is, she didn’t care. She liked having him around and realized then and there that she would do whatever she had to in order to help him get better and get back to his brother.

Everything Tags: @sorenmarie87 // @yallgotkik

SPN Tags: @kazosa // @wings-of-a-raven // @closetspngirl // @idreamofplaid// @screechingartisancashbailiff // @linki-locks11 // @winchesterxfamilybusiness// @spnhollis // @sandlee44 // @stoneyggirl // @clarinette07 // @negans-wife // @deans-baby-momma // @hobby27 // @breereadsthings // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @aomi-nabi // @akshi8278 // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare// @coffeebooksandfandom // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @fictionalabyss// @adoptdontshoppets // @blackcherrywhiskey // @babypieandwhiskey // @maddiepants // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @unlikelygalaxygiver

[dysphoric-dumbass13]

All of them. Every single fall themed ask at once. Lets see how you like it. (love you)

Whatever. Something to do in bio. Love you too boo.

Lantern: (how did you meet your best friend?) I have three. For Evan, they said something about the flannel I was wearing. I didnt like them that much to start out, they were too bubbly for my taste. For TJ, I was friends with his best friend in 6th grade. She left and I didnt have any friends so J tried to become friends with him and Angel. I loved him, he was so sassy and cool. For Kass, the asshole who's making me do this, it was 6th grade science. I didn't know what to call them and spent the entire year trying to figure it out but being too afraid to ask. They were actually pretty cool. Idk what all of their initial opinions of me were.

Frost: (if you could give some advice to your younger self, what would you say?) Quit pretending you're an adult, itll just hurt you. Let yourself dress masculine, it's ok to do that. And it's ok to like girls like you do, dont be afraid to express yourself.

Maple: (is there a hobby/skill you've always wanted to try but never did?) Yeah, I always wanted to be on a little league football team when I was little.

Harvest: (what fictional character do you most identify with? Why?) Dean winchester. Because I am just..... basically him if he wasnt raised in an environment with toxic masculinity *cough cough* John *cough cough*

Fireside: (if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like?) Flannel, band tees, everything would be from the Mens section. Some binders for masculine and nb days and lots of mens skinny jeans. Also David Bowie Vans, pride converse, and combat boots.

Cider: (a food that you disliked as a child but now enjoy?) Idk. For a period of time I hated coffee, I dont mind it now.

Amber: (share an unpopular opinion that you may have.) Oof. Um, christians aren't necessarily bad, the ones we all know of are because they hide behind the bible to hate people.

Fog: (how well do you think you'd do in a zombie apocalypse scenario?) Either really well or terribly. I'd either let then get me, or wear a medieval suit of armor and just walk through everywhere boss mode. And Costco.

Jack-O-Lantern: (if you could look like any celebrity, who would you choose?) Ruby rose.

Spice: (have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted?) Yes. Mine. Creepy baby handprints in the basement. In keeping the spirits occupied with my old Barbies.

Orchard: (share one thing you'd like to happen this autumn) Oh, that's hard. I think I'd want a partner so I dont go into winter depressed like I always do.

Crow: (which school subject do you have an aptitude for?) Math or English? Does choir count? Idk

Bonfire: (describe your dream house) Idc that much. As long as it has a library and multiple bedrooms, and the people I care about loving with me/nearby

Cinnamon: (if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where?) Either Ireland in the medieval times as a knight, or the 70s in Europe or the US.

Cranberry: (what is one physical feature you get complimented on?) Annoyingly, my boobs. Apparently they're big and nice, whatever. Recently, my hair though. I just cut it short.

Maize: (share the weirdest encounter you've had with a stranger on the street.) Last year, I was at the mall in a bathroom and an older woman (idk maybe 60?) came up to me and said "I'm either having a drink or I have to pee. You're living the golden years kid, not me." In hindsight I think she was just quoting John Mulaney at me, but it was weird to me when it happened.

Quilt: (how do you take your tea or coffee?) Tea, chai and Irish breakfast are my favorites, I really like green tea though. It has to be sweet though, I can't stand unsweetened tea (theres my mom's Texan coming out)

Pumpkin: (do you think that humans are inherently good or bad?) Neither, I think people are born blank slates and our experiences shape everything about us.

Moonlit: (are you a neat or messy person? Is your room/house orderly?) Hahahaha, what's a floor?

Flannel #1: (have you ever gone on a bad date?) No. I've only ever been on one date, and I thought it was pretty good. I dated one person who was an asshole but that's it.

Cocoa: (if you could have any type of hair, what color and cut would you have?) Probably my natural color (light brown, easiest to dye), cut short, but curly in texture instead of this wavyish shit.

Ghost: (is there someone that you miss having in your life?) Yeah. I mean she isn't dead, but my 6th grade best friend. I miss her.

Pumpkin spice: (what is your drink of choice?) Mt Dew, Dr. Pepper, or tea. But it has to be sweet.

Wool socks: (what is something you look forward to in fall?) If I lived anywhere but where I live this would work, my wardrobe is actually fitting for the type of weather. Coolish, with some breezes, and crisp. Warm sometimes. My flannel is great for that, but stupid Colorado snows nearly year round.

Falling leaves: (you're stranded on a desert island and here's the twist: what three things do you NOT bring with you?) A boat so I can live in solidarity, thank you very much, anyone that's homophobic, transphobic, antisemitic, racist, etc, and peanuts.

Smelly candles: (what's your absolute favorite scent?) Fredh baked apple pie 🤤

Big sweaters: (do you prefer the cold, warmth, or a perfect in-between?) I'm practically a living heater. So cold weather.

Halloween: (if you could dress up as anyone/anything and pull it off absolutely flawlessly, who/what would it be?) Idk if this counts, but whatever gender I currently identify with (nb, feminine, masculine, in between). If that doesn't, then Jensen Ackles.

Cozy blankets: (where do you feel the most safe and at home?) With TJ. He's my family.

Hot tea: (when was the last time you kissed someone?) July 21st at around.... 5 or 6am?

Flannel #2: (what's your favorite day of the year? Is there a reason it's your favorite?) I don't really have one.

Chilly air: (what's your least favorite and favorite type of weather?) Is it weird that snowing is both my favorite and least favorite type of weather depending on the time of year?

Scarves: (if you could only wear one outfit for the rest of your life, what would it be?) My pair of black ripped guys skinny jeand with my dark blue distressed flannel and my wolf shirt.

Apple cider: (if you could throw a party and invite absolutely anyone, who would they be?) All of my close friends, plus the one I haven't seen in forever that I miss too much, and Misha Collins.

Haunted houses: (what's your scariest memory?) It was a dream I had when I was 5 that I remember in perfect detail. When I find the time I texted it to Kass I'll make a post with a screenshot of it.

Fuzzy boots: (if you could live in any year/era, which would it be and why?) See cinnamon above

Thanksgiving: (what is someone/something that you're most grateful for? Any particular reason?) That's hard. Can I say my best friends? That's only 3 people. And because they're always there and care about me and I love them.

Black friday: (what is one thing, if anything, that you would sell your soul to own?) The rights to be the writer of a Supernatural sequel.

Apple picking: (if you could go anywhere, where would it be and why?) Ireland. Castles. About 60% of my heritage. Green.

Corn mazes: (do you have any secret talents/abilities?) Not secret ones

Hay rides: (if you could pick absolutely anything to be your form of transportation, what would it be?) A 1967 4-door black Chevrolet Impala. Obviously.

The color orange: (do you have a specific song that reminds you of autumn? What is it?) Yeah, a few. Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood, Trees by twenty one pilots, Smithereens by twenty one pilots, Californication by Red Hot Chili Peppers, Snow (Hey Oh) by Red Hot Chili Peppers, Blackbird by The Beatles, Perfect by Ed Sheeran, Castle On The Hill by Ed Sheeran, Heartbeat by Carrie Underwood, and What I Got by Sublime. To name a few.

Windy nights: (if you could go to any concert whose would it be?) Live Aid lmao. If they dont have to be alive then Queen, if they do then either Ed Sheeran, twenty one pilots, or Panic!

Holding hands: (do you believe in soulmates?) Kinda? I think I want to. I think you feel it at one point, if you meet someone you love that dearly. But idk, maybe I'm just being stupid.

Kass, thank you. And I hate you.

[mlovesstories]

Her Dad’s Distress (HDF 15)

Her Dad’s Distress HDF 15

Addy age 15

JJ age 4

Twins age 8 months

Jensen x Daughter, Danneel x Daughter, Jared x Niece

Patriarch- oldest male of the family

AN: The exercises below are ones I’ve used or I’ve heard about.  I’m not a medical professional.  

Word Count: 1303

Warnings:  Panic attack, sensory overload, Addy fluff?

Summary- Addy and Jensen go back to Vancouver.

July 2017

It was now July, the most dreaded month of the year for the Ackles and Padaleckis. Both patriarchs had to go back to work. While Danneel, Addy, and Jensen were still working through their individual trauma recovery, they were doing considerably well.  The three worked very hard to come together and be there for each other, but now it was time that they were separated again. Jensen was somewhat scared to go to set, the memories of the accident came back strongly.

“What if I go with him? I’m still on my summer break,” Addy suggested.  

“Baby-“ Danneel started.

“He leaves in two days, Mom. Just think about it. I know how to calm him down, and the therapist said he thought it might be a little much for him anyway.”

“I know. I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.”  

The next few days were difficult.  They were all mourning the loss of hiatus.  Even though it had taken a lot of work, both families created some positive memories.  

“Hey, Addy.  Come here,” Jensen called for his oldest daughter.  “I want to ask you something.” Addy walked over from playing with the babies on the floor to sit next to her dad.

“What’s up, Daddio?”

“You’re a rockstar, you know that, right?”

“Umm, duh!  Wait- why, exactly?”  Addy gave her dad a confused, but prideful, expression.  He laughed.

“You help us so much.  Thank you for all you’ve done to help us on hiatu-”

“If it’s a ‘no’ for me coming to Van, it’s okay.  Dad, I just want you to feel safe going back, that’s all.”

“Woman, would you let me talk?!”  Jensen sassed.  Addy leaned over in laughter.

Through her giggles, she answered with a ‘sure’.

“We wanted to reward you for all of your work in therapy.  It hasn’t been easy for any of us, but you’ve handled it like a champ.  You’ve been a great example for everyone, and I hope you feel that.”

“Yes, Daddy.  I do. So…”

“You can come to Vancouver with me on a few conditions.”

“REALLY? Name it! I’ll do it!”

“Woah.  Slow down, Speedy Gonzales.  Okay, number one, if being on set or at any point you feel out of control, you tell me. No buts. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Number two, you have to increase your therapy sessions by phone or video chat with Doc.  The environment there will not be as controlled as it is here.”

“Okay.”

“I thought for sure you would fight me on that.”  Jensen was very surprised she was going along with his contingencies.

“No, Daddy.  It’s fine.  I understand.”

“Three, you can’t always feel like you need to protect me when things get iffy.  Although the scenes and environments will be out of our control, you are not my security guard, okay?”

“Yes.”

“Any scenes with guns, you will be in my trailer.  If you do not want to follow that, you ain’t coming.  That could be a big trigger for you, Addy.  You are not going to be around when we are shooting blanks on set.  I am not okay with you being around that yet.”  

“Okay, Daddy.  I’ve worked really hard on both scary things that happened this year.  I think I’ll be alright.  But I promise, I will tell you if I’m not.  I have some conditions for you too, you know.” Addy crossed her arms with smug smile.  

Jensen laughed to himself, noting her spunk coming back.  “What’s that?”

“If you feel an attack coming, you have to do something.  Don’t tough it out because you can’t ignore it.  If it gets bad, take a break.”

“Addy, I can’t just stop in the middle of shooting-”

“Yes.  You can.  And you will.  You are Jensen Ackles, one of the most famous television stars in the world.  You can stop production for a few minutes if you don’t feel well.  Promise me that you will tell Jared or me just like you want me to tell you.  Please.”

“Fine, but it isn’t your job to babysit me, you understand?  It’s MY responsibility to protect YOU.”

“I understand.”

“Okay, let’s get your stuff packed. Your mom will get you a ticket.   We leave bright and early.”

_________

Jared, Jensen, and Addy all traveled to Vancouver, and they started shooting the show the day after.  Addy and Jensen were picked up in the morning to go to set.  It was about an hour away, so they chatted along the way.  No guns were needed for the first few scenes, so Addy stuck around.  When it came time for Jensen and Jared to use their guns, she quietly exited the set.  Jensen looked over at his chair and made sure she wasn’t there to observe.  When he saw her walk off set, he allowed himself to engage in the scene.  Later on, Addy was watching as they did a big stunt scene where the boys had to jump off of and over a few obstacles on a busy street.  

“And action!”  The director started the scene.  

Sam and Dean run down a sidewalk chasing a werewolf.  They jump over various fruits and vegetables dropped on the ground by said werewolf.  Dean runs into the crowded street to catch up to him-

As they chased him across the street, a car slammed on its brakes before it could hit Jensen.  He froze in the middle of traffic.  Jensen didn’t know what to do.  His mind raced.  He couldn’t think.

Jared continued the scene, not realizing that Jensen had stopped.  Addy saw the panic in her dad’s face.  She ran to him.  “Dad!  Get out of the street!”  Jensen didn’t hear her.  When it was safe, she walked out to guide him to the side of the road. The noises and sounds and cars and people all came at Jensen in one moment.  His senses were on overload.  His mind was in a sort of shock, not even registering anything around him once the car screeched to a halt.  It was an out-of-body experience watching Addy pull him out of the roadway.  His daughter guided him to the ground, and she sat with him.  She squeezed his arms to bring him back to reality.

“Dad, you’re okay.  I’m right here.  It’s okay.”  She put pressure on the sides of his head and worked her way back down to his arms again.  By then, production had paused and Jared ran back to his friend.

“Kiddo, let me do it.”  Jared knew she could handle it, but he would take over if needed.

“No, I got it.” she answered.  “We’ve been doing specific exercises in therapy.”  She looked back at Jensen. “Can you hear me, Sen?  I’m right here.”  

“Hmff,” was all Jensen let out.  

“Breathe with me, Dad.”  Addy put his hand over her heart.  “I got you.  Come back, Sen.  You’re okay.”  She started singing a calming song to him as his breathing eased.  He looked around and took in his surroundings.  “Hi, Dad.  You ready to calm down?”

“Yes.”  Jensen could barely get his answer out.

“Okay.  Repeat after me.  10, 12, 5.”

It took Jensen some time, but he copied his daughter in saying the numbers.

“Good job.  Let’s do another one.  50, 46, 61.”

They did this a few more times before Jensen was truly ready for a conversation.   

“Hey, princess.”  Jensen was still trying to understand what happened.

“Hi, Daddy.  You okay?”  

Hope you liked it!  Liked it?  Tell me!  If you want to be tagged, tell me that too! 

.@luci-in-trenchcoats​ .@katymacsupernatural  .@unicornblood4ever  .@ellie-andthemachine .@fangirl-moment-x  .@empirialwolf .@winchesters-favorite-girl  .@super100012  .@waywardnewcomer  .@percywinchester27  .@waywardsuns  .@supernatural-jackles  .@mcallmestiles .@mandyreese .@sdavid09  .@kingandrear  .@bellero .@rosiewinchester  .@iliketowrite02​  .@seality​  .@blogsnowflakeme

[percywinchester27]

The surprise

Word count: 1600-ish

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Fluff! :)

A/N: This is for my Darling friend Kari’s ( AKA @thing-you-do-with-that-thing) birthday! Despite what you say, you ARE an older sis to me, and I love you more than I can put into words. Thank you for adopting me and for sticking by me in my thick and thin. I hope you like this ;) 

beta’d by the super sweet and talented @deanssweetheart23. Thank you so much babe! I owe you one!

"So where are we going?" You asked, tugging at the blindfold. Sure, you loved birthday surprises, but the guy in the driver's seat had been taking it to the other freaking end. He had been at it for days now.

Jensen would turn up late for dates, wouldn't stay over anymore, and every time you asked him, he'd sweat bullets and change the topic. If you didn't know your boyfriend better, you'd have jumped to the worse conclusions. You would have assumed the very worst and started panicking about it. But you knew Jensen. He was as big a dork as you when it came to little things, but if it was something serious, he was enough of a gentleman to come clean about it.

So you turned to the next best option available, and ended up at Jared's house at an ungodly hour. This was easier than worrying about what was wrong with Jensen. Jared's annoyed expression immediately softened when he saw you at the door, before turning into a worried one.

"Y/N?" He rubbed at his eyes, 'What's wrong?"

"I need you to tell me what's wrong with Jensen," you asked, point blank.

"What's wrong with him?" He was looking more and more confused by the minute. Which would have been adorable if you hadn't been hyperventilating with worry.

"Something is," you threw your hands up in the air, barging into the living room. "I know there is something wrong with the guy because he is avoiding me like the fucking plague. He's never home anymore. Doesn't even stay back to walk Santo these days. And he loves doing that. So don't you tell me there is nothing wrong with him!"

You watched as obvious understanding dawned on Jared's face, before he ran a hand through his hair, looking equal parts guilty and nervous.

"I know you know something, you giant moose," you narrowed your eyes at him, wiggling a finger. "You better tell me what it is."

Jared shifted his weight from one leg to another. He knew you were stubborn to the last cell of your body. One way or another, you would find out.

He sighed. "I swear to God Y/N, if you breathe a word about this to him…"

"Just spit it out already!" You all but yelled.

"Fine," he gave in. You had never seen him look guiltier, and this was including the time he had decided that it was funny to let the air out of your tires, making you late for work. "He is planning a birthday surprise for you."

"Oh…" It was all you could say. You had been so worried about something being so inexcusably wrong with him, that the thought of a birthday present for you hadn't even crossed your mind.

"He is planning a birthday present for me, by ignoring me?" You thought out loud, tilting your head to a side.

"These things take time, Y/N," Jared said sagely, and you narrowed your eyes at him again.

"What do you mean by these things?"

"Nothing! I already told you enough to land me in lifetime's worth of trouble. I'm not saying another word," he said, shaking his head.

He promptly banished you from his house after that, muttering about lifetime of trust issues, broken bro code and such.

That had been two weeks ago, and even though patience was not exactly your best quality, you decided to take things at Jensen's pace and be nice about it.

However, you still loved making Jensen uncomfortable once in a while as you fake whined about how little time he was spending with you. Now that you knew there was nothing to worry about, it was almost easier to watch him go, when he untangled himself out of your arms on Saturday nights. Almost.

"Are we there yet?" You whined from the passenger's seat. You had been counting the time. It hadn't been more than half an hour. After a while even the turns he had been taking became harder to remember. Left, right, left, left again…left… or was it right? Uhhggg…Where was he taking you?

You would be lying if you said that you hadn't been giving "the surprise" any thought. In fact, on lonely nights, it was all you could think about. What was this present that was keeping him away from you? Was he taking you out to a lunch? Was he planning the perfect date? The poor guy barely got weekends off from all the flying and hectic shooting schedules. You hated to think that he was putting unnecessary efforts into the gift and tiring himself.

"Almost there," he said lightly, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

"You're such a tease," you giggled.

"Yeah, you love it," he told you.

"Not so much right now."

The car slowed down and gradually came to a halt.

"We're here," he announced.

"Fucking finally," you muttered, as he helped you out of the passenger seat, gently guiding you over what felt like smooth asphalt.

You tried to tap at the floor with your foot to try and gauge where you were, but you gave it up in no time, because you could barely think of anything that wasn't Jensen the moment his hands touched your bare shoulder. A tingle went up your spine. You shook your head at the effect the man had on you.

He guided you up a couple of steps and you couldn't help but tug at the blindfold.

"Hey, you can't remove it yet," Jensen chided you. "Only a couple of minutes now.”

"Okay," you acquiesced, drawing both your hands behind your back, playing the good girl. It earned you a chuckle from Jensen. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

You heard him fumble with keys, and then a lock click.

"Where are we?" You couldn't help but ask. He only chuckled in response, drawing you closer, as he closed the door behind the two of you.

God you wanted to jump his bones right then and there as the door hit the frame and the lock clicked. But there was no telling whether or not you were alone, so you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and behaved yourself. Jensen led you through seemingly familiar turns  inside the space until you were treading another set of stairs, but this time you were stepping down, into cool grass.

You could feel Jensen's plump lips against your forehead as he kissed you chastely.

"I'm gonna open the blindfolds now," he murmured against your skin. You knew him well enough to sense the nervousness in his voice.

His hands fumbled a little as he undid the knot, and you opened your eyes. It wasn't what you had expected, yet your heart took off at a sprint.

You were standing in the backyard of Jensen's water facing property. At first you didn't realise what was different, and then you saw it.

It was a kennel. Small and very woodsy. It wasn't very decorative, but it was neat and well made. What made it special was that it was the exact color of your house. The roof had shingles of the exact shade of brown and the wooden walls were painted the same pastel hue. That and the fact that the small board above it read "Santo."

Your eyes immediately filled up as you grasped the meaning behind his gesture, and you turned back to see him staring at your nervously, his hands scratching the back of his neck.

"It's very small, and I really didn't know what I was doing at first, but I think it's come out okay. The backside is a little dented because Jared sat on it at some point and we didn't have time to get more planks. And I know Santo doesn't sleep outside, he sleeps on the bed with you, but I just thought it would be nice to…"

You cut his nervous rambling off as you captured his lips in yours, conveying your obvious answer. You could feel him loosening into your touch, as all the tension left his body. His arms enveloped around you, and he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. When you finally broke off, the two of you were out of breath.

"It's beautiful," you told him. "But you didn't have to do all that to ask me to move in with you, dumbass!"

"Who told you I was asking you to move in?" He winked, leaning in for another kiss. "I only want Santo."

You giggled at that, hitting him playfully in the chest. "You idiot!"

He pulled you against his chest, and you sighed contentedly. "I love you, Y/N. I know it's only been a couple of months, but it's stupid to wait when you know you've found the perfect person. Happy birthday, Y/N/N."

You knew you didn't have to say it back to him, because he understood. So you only burrowed deeper in his hold, tightening your arms around him. The thought of waking up to him every morning and sharing your life with him was so overwhelming that you weren't sure you could manage to speak without your voice breaking just yet.

But Jensen understood, you knew he did.

All you wanted to do was pull him back into the house and drag him into the bed with you. Which was exactly what you did. Santo could manage to stay out of the bed for one night ;)

This is my first time writing RPF out of blurbs. PLEASE tell me if I sucked?

Tagging the Jensen tag team that never expected to be tagged (Surprise bitches!):

@torn-and-frayed @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @bringmesomepie56 @akshi8278 @frickfracklesackles  @supernatural-jackles @mogaruke @missdestiel67 @brihughes4 @docharleythegeekqueen @impandagrl @luna-plena-venandi @jotink78 @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @melonberri @maui137 @dustycelt @its-my-perky-nipples @grace-for-sale @iamnotsaneatall @aiaranradnay @feelmyroarrrr @thevioletthourr  @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @sandlee44 @thebitterbookeater @plainoldblogs @silver-and-green @meeshw777 @mamapeterson @bemyqueenofdarkness @liveyourlifemeraki @bambinovak @emoryhemsworth @boxywrites @autopistaaningunaparte @cloverhood @blacktithe7 @emilycollins11 @devilgirlsarah @michellethetvaddict @its-not-a-tulpa @benzilla-94 @grace-for-sale

Taking the liberty to tag @mysupernaturalfics cause why not :P

[sleepywinchester]

Behind The Story S2 | Pt. 14

Summary: It’s been a rough week since Jensen confessed what happened in Rome.

Author: sleepywinchester {prev; deanwinchester-af}

Characters: Jensen, Reader, Jared, Gen and Cast Cameos.

Pairings: Single!Jensen x Actress!Reader (Nina Dobrev = Faceclaim)

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Hella Angst. Like... So much crying.

Disclaimer: NO HATE TOWARDS DANNEEL!

Note: This is the first chapter that’ll focus on the aftermath.

Title: Broken

MASTERLIST

Day 01

Tonight wouldn’t be the last night you would fell asleep covered in your own tears. The first couple hours were a torment. Jensen’s words constantly echoing inside your mind, no matter how much you squeezed your eyes shut, they were still there like ghosts. You grunted staring at the ceiling, everything in this room reminded you of him. The pictures in the walls, his smell imprinted on the sheets, it was unbearable.

The morning after Genevieve found you sleeping  in JJ’s nursery floor.

“Y/N?” Gen softly woke you up.

Your eyelids have never felt so heavy. They were swollen and your eyes red from the intense and non stop crying. Your body felt weak and heavy at the same time. Genevieve helped to get you off the floor. A small and weak smile formed in your lips when you saw JJ’s sleeping peacefully in her crib. You wanted to be that peaceful and oblivious.

“She’s going to wake up soon…” You whispered.

“I’ll take care of JJ,” Gen said, still holding you. “Let’s get you in the room.”

You trusted Genevieve blindly to take care of you and your daughter. She led the way towards your bedroom. It was in the entrance that you stopped, staring at the inside with disgust. You weren’t ready to face your bedroom yet.

“I can’t,” your voice broke not being able to look into the room anymore.

Gen sighed deeply, she hold both of your arms, hugging you. It was so heartbreaking for her to see you in this state; so broken and so hopeless. She nodded and looked to the following room.

“Let’s get you to the guest room,” she said.

Genevieve made sure you were as comfortable as you could be. She covered you up with blankets, always asking if you needed anything every ten minutes. You kept constantly repeating that you were okay, that you only wanted to sleep.

Genevieve knew you weren’t okay. How could you after what Jensen did?

“Hey,” Gen strolled into the room with JJ in hands.

Your daughter was wearing a pink onesie with white bows. She hold onto Genevieve until her eyes found her mother. You forced a weak smile, “Hi, babygirl.”

“Want to nurse her?” Your best friend asked hoping for a yes.

JJ is used to have breast and normal milk but you always opted for nursing her. You nodded softly and hold her in your arms. JJ got closer to you, her hand touching your heart, that small gesture made a teardrop escape loose. Gen stayed with you until JJ was full and asleep, taking her to the nursery and leaving you to continue sleeping.

Day 02

The next day you woke up to a breakfast in bed. The tray had oatmeal and an even portion of eggs and strawberries. Your favorite breakfast but you didn’t had appetite at all. Genevieve convinced you to eat saying that you needed to be strong for your daughter. You were so weak that Gen ended up feeding you.

“I can’t believe he did that to me,” you said quietly.

Gen’s entire face expression portrayed sadness. She hated to see you like this, she hated to see Jensen like this. He was staying in her house. They both were equally broken and miserable. While Gen was feeding you, Jared was back at the house feeding Jensen.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Gen said.

You shrugged, starting to feel hopeless and lost.

“I-,” you sighed, holding back the tears. “What am I going to do?”

“You’ll figure it out... “ She said, caressing your arm, “You’re strong, Y/N.”

You shook your head, the tears falling down your cheeks.

“I thought I was but-,” you sobbed, “I’m not.”

In that moment you lean over and cried over Genevieve’s shoulder. She hold you down, comforting you the best way she could, being there for you.

Day 03.

Sadness acted as a tranquilizer drug, numbing your body and soul. You kept staring with a blank look at the wall in your bathroom. Sitting inside the full bathtub in silence. You hugged your legs onto your chest tightly as you weren’t safe in here. Only listening to the soft water movements.

Suddenly you let your entire body fell backwards and going under water.

��You hold your breath until your lungs started to beg for air but you didn’t respond. You stayed numb under water. It wasn’t until flashes of your daughter’s smile began to blur inside your mind. You could listen to her giggles in the distance. It was there when you decided to break free, gasping for fresh air.

You didn’t left the tub quickly, you stayed a couple of more minutes, rubbing your eyes, hesitant to the idea of walking out of those four walls. Standing up you let the bathtub drain the water and hoped for the sadness away. You turned on the shower and stayed under the running water for a while. It was the first soothing feeling you’ve had in three days.

“I need to be strong for her,” you whispered to yourself.

After putting on a fresh set of jeans and white t-shirt, you decided it was time to get out of the room. Jared and Genevieve instantly looked at you and smiled as you walked down the stairs. You forced yourself to return the smile.

It was fake smile, you didn't felt happy but at least you were trying.

“Hey,” Jared greeted while holding JJ, his eyes were deeply concerned.

You faked another smile. “Hi,” you looked down at JJ. “Can I?”

“Of course,” Jared quickly said and handled her over gently.

“Are you hungry?” Gen quickly asked.

She saw the way your under eyes were beginning to look hollow. Genevieve was worried that you weren’t eating enough. She was worried that you would develop depression.

Your eyes never let go of JJ. “I could eat a soup.”

“Coming right up,” Gen gave you a soft smile and walked into the kitchen.

Walking around the sofa, you sat with JJ and Jared by your side.

You looked at him, “She ate?”

“Just now,” Jared said. “Y/N-”

“Don’t,” you spoke without looking into his eyes.

“But-,” Jared said.

“I don’t want to talk about him, Jared.” Your focus still on JJ.

“You need to,” he softly said. “He’s a wreck-,”

“He’s wreck?” You glared at Jared. “What the hell am I?” You felt the lump in your throat growing in that instant. “I said, I don’t want to talk about him. Please.”

“She’s right, Jared,” Gen joined, her voice soothing. “She needs time to heal.”

It wasn’t Jared’s intention to make you uncomfortable, it was in his nature to try to amend things. The only problem is that this wasn’t his problem to fix.

Day 04

Jules woke you up this day by constantly licking your hand.

“Okay, okay,” you mumbled, forcing yourself getting out of bed.

JJ’s morning routine was easy and quick. You changed her diaper, made her breakfast, washed her and put her into a new set of clothes. Jules followed closely as you walked down stairs with JJ on arms. The baby girl giggling every time Jules would do anything.

“Da-da,” JJ mumbled when her eyes found a picture of Jensen in the wall.

You swallowed down, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“He’s-,” you cleared your throat, “you’ll see him soon, baby girl.”

You kissed her soft hair before placing her inside the pink playground. You huffed a soft laugh watching her crawl quickly to her toys. The rest of the day went very slow but it wasn’t as crappy as the previous ones. You did your best to stay busy and away from any communications. You haven’t laid eyes on your phone since Tuesday and you weren’t planning on doing so any time soon. You weren’t ready to face the world yet.

Day 05

“Good morning,” Genevieve greeted as she strolled into the kitchen holding a brown bag.

“Please tell me those are bagels.” You muttered before taking a sip of your coffee.

Gen chuckled, “They are.”

She served them over a plate, taking the cream cheese out of the fridge. Gen poured herself coffee before taking a seat in the stool beside you.  

“How are you feeling?” She asked, her tone was soft and caring.

You swallowed the bagel bite and shrugged.

“I don’t feel like dying anymore,” you said with honestly. “Guess that’s some progress.”

“It is some progress,” Gen smiled.

“Yay me,” you mumbled without humour.

Genevieve flashed a grin but she knew you weren’t joking yet you were trying to humour yourself out of being miserable. “Have you talked with your mom?” She asked.

Shaking your head, you slide the plate with the half eaten bagel forward. Clapping the crumbs away from your hands and turning back to Gen. “I don’t even know where my phone is.”

“Is,” Gen stood up from the stool. She reached a cabinet and took the cellphone out. “Here. I put it away and turned it off… knew you wanted to be left alone.”

Your eyes focused on the iPhone for a while. Genevieve was right; you did wanted to be left alone and forget about the world. You sighed as you pressed the button on the right, turning the device on. It took a couple seconds for your phone stop ringing. Countless messages and missed calls showing on your notification center. You bit your lower lip staring at Jensen’s name on most of the calls and messages.

“You don’t have to talk to no one if you’re not ready,” Gen said.

“I have to at some point,” you told her.

Gen took your phone and turned it off. “When you’re ready, you know when it’s hidden.”

She put it back on place and had her seat next to you.

“Thank you,” you told her. “If it wasn’t for you-,” you hold on the tears, “just thank you.”

“Hey,” Gen hold up your chin. “I’ll always be here.”

Day 06

You woke up with enough courage to confront the person that brought you to life. Your heart beat faster and faster with every ring. It wasn’t until she responded the face-time call that you gasped for air. Seeing your mother’s face was very comforting.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she gave you her motherly smile.

You faked a smile, “Hey mom.”

“You’ve been so distant,” she said. “I’ve been trying to reach you for the past days.”

You could feel the tears slowly building up once again. “I’m good,” you tried your best to kept the sadness and heartbreak hidden. “I’m just-,”

“Honey,” your mother spoke concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Ja-,” you cleared your throat, “Jensen… He- Um.” You tried to said the word but there was too much shame. You couldn’t say it outloud. You couldn’t and didn’t want accept the reality.

“Oh darling,” your mother sighed. She could see the heartbreak in your eyes and tears. Her motherly intuition telling her what was happening. “I’m so sorry.”

“He-,” you mumbled, scared of saying the word. “He cheated, mom.”

Your mother shut her eyes, tears began to go down her cheeks. She caressed her forehead, holding onto her own emotions. “He’s so in love with you… How-,”

“He got drunk,” you muttered… “I feel so worthless…”

“Where’s JJ?” She asked worried.

“She’s taking a nap,” you said. “She’s good, mom… Gen has been helping me out.” You looked at your mother in the eye. “I don’t know what to do, mom… I feel like my entire life crumbled down. I-,” you sobbed looking away.

“Hey,” you mother captured your attention. “You’re going to get through this. It hurts like hell. I know but you’ll get through this.”

“How?”

“Fighting the urge to stay in bed every day.” Your mom spoke fiercely. “You’re going to get through this and it won’t be because you need to but because you have to. You have a daughter that depends on your well being for her to be okay.”

You looked down to your hand, noticing that you still had the ring on. “What about this?” You turned back to your mom, showing the engagement ring. “Is in less than two months… I can’t just-”

“Yes, you can,” she said, “if it’s what you feel, if that’s what you want, do it.”

“I don’t want to, I love him.” You cried and shook your head. “I don’t even know what I want anymore.”

“You’ll discover it with time,” she said. “Just remember that there’s a little girl whose doesn’t have fault of anything that’s happening. She still needs her father, Y/N.”

“I know,” you told her, “I- I would never keep her away from him. He’s her father…”

“You’ll have to work something out for her.” Your mother said.

“I know,” you repeated. 

In that moment JJ began to cry. “She’s up - I have to go.”

“Sweetie,” your mom spoke, “I can take the first flight over.”

Shaking your head saying ‘no’. “Don’t bother,” you told her. “I’m flying to LA soon. Can you prepare your old apartment for me?”

Your mother nodded, “Already on it, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you too,” you said before ending the call.

Day 07.

You were very hesitant of logging into your computer. Countless unread emails from work, family and wedding issues, flooding your inbox. You let out a big and sharp breath. Covering your face with both hands, you began to massage your temples. Another worthless attempt for self soothing.

It was eight pm, JJ was peacefully asleep and you needed a drink. You stood up from the stool and reached the wine fridge, grabbing the first open bottle that came to sight. You also grabbed the first wine glass that you saw and filled it with the bloody colored licor.

You began to walk around your house, purposely ignoring the family picture still on the walls. A flashback of the greatest memories replaying inside your mind. You kept walking until finding yourself inside the master bedroom. It was the first time in a week that you found the guts to get yourself to walk in. You took the last sip of the glass and shifted into sipping from the bottle. Leaving the bottle over the closet counter as you grabbed your wedding gown off it’s bag.

Once it was hanged in front; you took a moment to take it’s beauty. It was truly beautiful and pure… but you weren’t that anymore, your relationship wasn’t that anymore.

Your love with Jensen wasn’t pure anymore.

You didn’t hesitate when you began to pour the red wine on top of the dress. You watched how slowly drip down, staining the dress from the top to the bottom.

The sound of the front door’s bell made you snap away from the trance. You walked downstairs, with the almost empty bottle of wine in hand. You opened carelessly, thinking it was Gen making sure you haven’t slit your wrist or done something stupid.

But it wasn’t Gen who waited for you on the other side, it was Jensen.

You took a deep breath in, feeling the familiar ache inside your heart.

“Hey,” Jensen’s voice was gruff.

Jared wasn’t kidding when he said Jensen was a completely wreck. Jensen’s under eyes were darker and hollow, he hasn’t been sleeping at all. His green eyes were accompanied by a shade of red. This letting you how much he’s been crying.

Even though he looked miserable, his eyes lit up at the sight of you.

“You’ve been drinking?” Jensen cocked an eyebrow confused and worried.

You glanced down, taking a deep breath before speaking. “More like spilling it around but yes,” you took a mouthful sip of the wine. “Come in. We have to talk.”

He followed your steps into the living room in silence. Afraid of saying or looking you the wrong way. Jensen tried to seat next to you but you hold a hand on the air.

“No.” You looked at the couch next to yours. “There.”

Jensen nodded and sat where you told him without any complain. He looked at you, not recognizing the woman staring back at him. You looked so cold and broken in his eyes.

“I’m sor-,” he began to say.

“-stop,” you cut him off. “Stop saying you’re sorry.” You snapped, tired and over his apologies. “You saying how sorry and drunk you were, won’t change what happened. It will not make things better, Jensen.”

Jensen clenched his jaw, holding both of his hands together. You were right; no matter how much he apologized, it wouldn’t make things better. “I just want everything to be as it was…” He looked you in the eye, “I want my family back.”

You were so nervous that you hold your hands together as well. The fingers of your right hand playing with your engagement ring. He was staring at you, it was palpable.

“I never meant to hurt you, Y/N,” Jensen’s voice broke. “You know that.”

“You didn’t just hurt me, Jensen.” You hesitated to look him in the eye. Tears began to run down your face and his. “You broke me. You broke what we had. Our love-,” you bit your lower lip, taking a brief pause not to burst into sobs. “Our love was pure and you broke it.”

Jensen nodded, the tears running down. “We can fix it-,”

“No,” you shook your head.

“We can,” Jensen stood up and knelt in front of you. “We can.”

“No.” You looked into his eyes, crying hopelessly.

Jensen shook his head as you took the engagement ring off. He pulled back when you grabbed his hand and placed the piece of jewelry on it. Jensen dropped his head above the hand, completely tearful.

It was in that moment that Jensen’s world fell over him. “Please,” he begged in tears. “Give me a chance. Think about us, about our life-” he looked up, “our daughter.”

“Don’t pull the daughter card, Jensen.” you told him. “Were you thinking about us, our life, our daughter, when you screw that skank?” You spatted. “I don’t think so.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Jensen said. “I would never do that in my right mind, Y/N. I love you.”

“You did it,” you couldn’t hold back the tears. “I can’t do this.”

He sighed sharply, “What about JJ? What about work? Are we going to just ignore each other?”

“JJ will always be your daughter. I can’t be selfish with our daughter. She doesn’t have any fault in this but she is the only relation we are going to have from now on.” You pulled your hand back from his. “We are professionals, we can leave our private life out of set…”

“Please-,” Jensen begged.

You stood up, walking away from him and staying in the kitchen. He stayed in the floor, broken and helpless. He dammed the day he decided going in that trip without you.

“I’m going to LA with JJ…”

Your words made Jensen look instantly up. “What?” He stood up.

You swallowed, “I’m not going to stay in here… too many memories”

“You can’t do this,” Jensen shook his head. “You don’t have to leave to Los Angeles.”

“I need this time,” you told him.

Jensen sucked in air, controlling his temperament and disagreement. “Okay. Can I go see her?”

“Sure,” you said and watched him walk upstairs.

He stayed in JJ’s nursery for a while. You walked upstairs and listened to him sing to her. Jensen also apologized to his daughter a thousand times before  telling her how much he loved her. You followed Jensen downstairs, you both stood in silence in the front door. It was very late, dark and cold outside but neither of you could seem to notice.

Jensen stared deeply at your eyes. He wasn’t just looking at you… He was taking you in, memorizing every single feature in your face. He was saying goodbye. Jensen knew that time would pass before seeing you again.

“I love you,” he said quietly, a tear falling down his face. “I’ve always have and I’ve always will.”

You loved him too and you hated him at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen said before turning around and leaving.

Watching him leave felt just like day one, heavy, numb and hopeless.

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Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/supernatural-season-13-hits-park-rising-son/

'Supernatural' Season 13 hits it out of the park with 'The Rising Son'

The second episode of Supernatural’s 13th Season kept up the momentum we began with the season premiere. There was a bit more exposition than I might have liked, and a bit of that jumping around that sometimes jars me, but there were also some intense and emotional scenes – which is what I like the most about this show. This is a one-time-viewing review thanks to being away on a family mini-vacation, but it was a memorable episode. So what did I enjoy? Once again, I really appreciated Alex Calvert’s portrayal of Jack and the way the character has been written (and in this case directed by Tom Wright). I haven’t been so captivated by a new character in a long time, and much of that is due to Calvert’s fine-tuned and never over the top acting skills. He shows us a vulnerability to Jack that makes it impossible not to root for him, even when he loses his temper or jumps to conclusions like a toddler having a tantrum in a grocery store. The character shouldn’t work as well as it does – we should be skeptical of what almost seems like it could be a ‘jump the shark’ move, introducing the main characters’ much younger neighbor or brother or whatever. Of course in this case, the main characters are still hot like burning so Calvert may be younger, but the hotness factor is now just spread over more people. Still, it might have been seen as a jump the shark move, but it’s too well done and Calvert is just too good to let that be the case. Case in point. Jack trying to be just like Dean broke my heart. Imitating his every move. Wanting to watch Scooby Doo (nice reference to the upcoming crossover, Show).  Dean starts to get drawn in – his caretaking instincts kick in momentarily as he questions whether Jack is old enough to drink a beer – and then he pulls back, reminding himself who Jack is and telling him to knock it off and stop imitating him. Dean tosses Jack the Bible instead, where he reads about Lucifer, his actual father. Jack: And that’s a bad thing? Dean: Damn straight. Jack: And God, is he famous or something? You might say that. Poor Jack, so earnest and so confused. Both Alex and Jensen were phenomenal in those scenes – and so was Jared Padalecki. Sam watching with such a fond look on his face, no doubt remembering when he was doing the same thing, trying to be just like his big brother. When Dean admonishes Jack that his food isn’t going anywhere, Sam is incredulous, reminding Dean that he’s the same way. I mean, basically everyone just wants to be Dean Winchester. Which is totally understandable. The constant back and forth between Dean and Sam about just how human Jack really is worked for me too,  Sam keeps referring to Jack as ‘him,' while Dean sticks to depersonalizing Jack, calling him ‘it.'  Their disagreement about Jack also allowed the show to inject just the right amount of humor into what was mostly a serious episode. Dean trying to get Jack to teleport out the door to their motel room was hysterical, especially as Jack responded to ‘get to the other side of the door quickly’ by getting up and calmly walking across the room and through the door, then knocked. The smile on his face was priceless, as was Dean’s eye roll. Every scene of Sam and Jack together was a treat. There is so much depth to their relationship already, mostly due to what we know about Sam’s own history of feeling like a ‘freak’ who Dean might just have to kill if he can’t control his powers. Jared’s nuanced acting and his ability to show us Sam’s vulnerability invest every scene of Sam and Jack with so much emotion. Sam clearly has empathy for Jack. Not sympathy, but empathy. He can put himself in Jack’s shoes because he has BEEN in Jack’s shoes. Trying to win Dean’s approval, trying to be just like Dean but fearing he never can be – that’s exactly where Jack is right now. In recent interviews, Jared has talked about how satisfying it is to have a storyline for Sam that he can really did into. Jack is forcing Sam to relive some of the most difficult times of his life, and probably pulling some of those old doubts to the surface as well – especially when he can’t convince Dean to see Jack as he does. Which brings me to another thing I really enjoyed in this episode – Sam and Dean sitting across the kitchen table or wherever they happened to be and really talking. Sam being honest, trying to convince Dean. Dean listening and being honest back, even if that means both of them acknowledging that they’re having a disagreement. But they’re not fighting and they’re not tuning each other out. They’re valuing each other’s perspectives even when they don’t agree. And let’s face it, I’m always going to be a happy fangirl when the brothers are having a serious conversation, anytime any place anyhow. Period. Sam knows his brother. And I love how well he knows his brother. He knows that the unimaginable losses they’ve just endured have pushed Dean past the breaking point, that Dean is shutting down in an attempt to deal with all the pain. He also knows that he is the only one who might be able to help Dean through that kind of grieving. Sam: We’ve been down before. We find a way; we fix it. Because that’s what we do. That right there? That is my Show! The blank, almost dead expression in Dean’s eyes nearly killed me though. What I missed most about last season was being able to see and feel the brothers’ relationship. That’s what makes the show special for me, and if I don’t see it, the sense of specialness fades. So the focus on Sam and Dean and how they’re feeling, about Jack and about each other, feels really good – it feels like my Show. I love love loved the scene where Jack retreats outside to the alley to hide after witnessing Sam and Dean arguing about him (in a perfect depiction of every child of fighting parents who feels to blame and caught in the middle).  Also, oops, turns out that Jack can teleport after all! Jack looks up at Sam and asks plaintively ‘Is that why Dean hates me?’ My heart breaks for him, and then in a flash I’m both smiling and sobbing at the same time because of what Sam says and the tenderness with which he says it. Padalecki nailed this scene, as did Calvert. And Sam shows us all just how well he knows his big brother. Even though they don’t agree, Sam understands why Dean is reacting the way he is. Sam explains that Dean’s wires get crossed when he’s afraid – that he feels like it’s his job to protect everyone. Not just Jack, but to protect people from Jack too. I don’t know why, but that scene just gutted me – in the best way. Sam isn’t angry at Dean, not at all. He understands why Dean is so vigilant about Jack and he understands how that ties into the messages that were ingrained in Dean from the start. The protector – of Sammy, and now of everyone else. My heart. Jack questions whether he’s worth caring about, breaking my heart again, but Sam reassures him. Sam: Your mother thought you were. So did Cas. So do I. God, I love Sam. He later tries to explain to Dean how Jack is feeling, ghosts of the Winchesters’ past once again coloring his words. Sam: Jack is scared to death of who he is, and he's scared of you. I don’t always love what Eugenie Ross-Leming and Brad Buckner write, but I loved some of these scenes so much. Thank you for the Sam and Dean conversation, and for remembering how well they know each other. I was also happy to see the return of Donatello, since I like the actor who plays him. Also he has a great entrance line. Donatello: Sam? Dean? Is God with you? Only on Supernatural would that sound totally normal. I don’t think Donatello entirely appreciated the view, but if I ever end up flat on my back unexpectedly, I hope this is what greets me when I look up. I kinda love Donatello’s resourcefulness. Had your soul sucked out of you by the Darkness? Just keep asking yourself ‘What would Mr. Rogers do?’  I feel like if more people asked themselves that, we’d be in much better shape right now all around. Also, that moment when Donatello tries to get paternal and puts a hand on both Sam and Dean’s shoulders – and they shrug him off totally in sync? Perfection. What else did I like? Oh yes, the tattoo scene! It was a big week for tattoos in the Supernatural fandom, since the day before Jensen Ackles got his first one. The suspense and anticipation waiting for it to be revealed had fans on the edge of their seats for over 24 hours and then gasping in delight when we finally got to see it. When Ackles decides to do something, he goes all in. Tattoos are no exception. The fact that it was for his daughter (and was also strikingly beautiful) just made it more awesome. Anyway, it was tattoo week for SPN, so Sam and Dean also take Jack to get the protection sigil tattooed. Too bad getting a tattoo hurts (props to Ackles but I’m sticking with my one small one, because OUCH), and that means Jack involuntarily throws the artist across the room. He perseveres, and Jack manages to allow it, only to have them disappear as his Nephilim body instantly heals itself. Oops. I also liked Sam’s explanation and the fact that the showed off his own. Sam: We’re brothers. It’s kind of like a family crest. Yeah, it is. Glad to see Sam still has his! One last thing that I really appreciated about this episode. Rob Hayter, the new stunt coordinator, has really been pulling out all the stops this season so far. The fight scene in this episode, mostly between Dean and a demon, was friggen’ amazing. Once again, I think it’s pretty clear that Jensen did the scene himself – those are definitely his thighs wrapped around that demon as he tries to fight it off. I mean, not that I know for sure, not like I’ve looked that closely or anything, but….yeah, I’m pretty sure. I’m not sure that other actor really appreciated the logistics of his situation, judging by the face he’s making. Pity. I loved the all-in fight scene, I loved Sam rushing in and saving the day (and his brother), and I loved Dean being totally badass and throwing an angel blade down the hallway to take out another demon.  Damn boys! Love me some badass Winchesters. The other two things that happened in this episode – because A LOT happened in this episode – were the introduction of Asmodeus and Michael. Asmodeus, the fourth prince of hell, is determined to find Lucifer’s son – and sway him to evil doings. Apparently back in the day Asmodeus tried to curry favor with Lucifer by freeing the shedim, very big bad things that even scared Lucifer. Their disagreement is how Asmodeus ended up scarred – and loyal to Lucifer. (And all that means that Asmodeus had a hell of a lot of exposition).  I understand why they need someone to replace Crowley who can go back to being a really bad guy instead of the bad guy we all ended up loving, I do. And Jeffrey V Parise did a good job investing the character with personality and menace. But I’m still grieving Crowley and Mark Sheppard and having a hard time stomaching his replacement.  I just…I miss Crowley, okay? Asmodeus is able to take whatever form he wants, which is handy for him and inconvenient for the Winchesters. First, he pretends to be a bartender chatting with Dean (and thank god he didn’t hit on her, which would have made zero sense in the context of the story) and then pretends to be Donatello getting info from Sam. The most suspenseful scene of the episode was Asmodeus/Donatello trying to convince poor Jack to free the Shedim after feeding him some BS about how it’s the right thing to do. I was actually screaming at my TV, NOOOO Jack, don’t do it! As Sam and Dean and the real Donatello raced there in Baby, I wanted to yell at Dean that it wasn’t Jack’s fault, he didn’t realize what he was doing! Jack comes close to opening a hell mouth and setting the Shedim (who are a very big bad and whose almost-introduction was super creepy) free. Luckily Asmodeus makes the mistake of attacking the Winchesters, and that lets Jack know what’s right and wrong in that moment. He zaps Asmodeus out of there, accusing him of “hurting my friends”. Now I’m screaming at my TV, did you hear that, Dean?? Of course, Sam brings that up later, but it doesn’t necessarily change Dean’s mind.  He tells Sam that they aren’t on the same page, not at all. But Dean is clearly conflicted, and Ackles plays that, ever so subtly. As Dean heads down the hall to his bedroom, he hears noises. Jack stands before a mirror, stabbing himself repeatedly, his white tee shirt torn in multiple places, the blade red with his blood even though he’s healing instantly. Dean, clearly distraught, grabs the blade away from Jack. Again, his instincts to protect kick in, and then he fights them. Jack: What am I? I can’t control whatever this is. I will hurt someone. Dean says that if he’s right and it comes to killing Jack, he’ll be the one to do it. Ouch. Such a powerful call back to what John wanted Dean to do to Sam, if it came to it. That scene totally broke my heart. The other new character – well, not exactly new character but new version – is Michael (Christian Keyes). Again, I have to say that Keyes did an excellent job portraying Michael, and gives him both charisma and gravity.  But again, I flinched a little because it’s not Matt Cohen. (yes yes I know, Cohen is busy on General  Hospital – doesn’t stop me from wishing he was back on Supernatural!) The show jumps back and forth between the main story and what’s happening the AU, where Mary is trapped with Lucifer, and that also threw me a bit. I never like it when we jump back and forth between (as of now) unrelated stories, and this episode was no exception. That takes nothing from Samantha Smith’s or Mark Pellegrino’s performance, they have a good snarky (him) and eye-rolling (her) vibe going on between them, but I kept wanting to get back to the Winchesters. Eventually in the AU they encounter Michael, who in his world has vanquished Lucifer. The two archangels tangle, and it looks like Michael can best Lucifer in this world too. At least for now. So mostly a “YES!” review for this episode. While John Winchester wasn’t explicitly mentioned in this episode, the theme of fatherhood was all over it. Lucifer and Castiel as Jack’s father figures, the Winchesters as Jack’s “two dads,” even Dean’s conversation with Asmodeus-as-bartender about always wanting to please your father. That makes me excited to see where we’re going, and to watch Sam and Dean (and eventually Cas) struggle with what it means to “parent” someone, let alone someone like Jack. Also, the Show gave me Dean in a single layer (Henley alert!), so I’m not in the mood for complaining. I’m excited to chat with the cast next weekend at the New Orleans convention now that the show is back on and I can ask show-related questions. Here’s to Episode 3 Patience and the Supernatural trailer is just above for it.

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[ramblings-daily]

A Chained Heart // Chapter One

Fandom: Criminal Minds Words: 6,619 Genre: Drama / Romance Pairing: Luke Alvez & Penelope Garcia Author's Note: finally this chapter is posted. the fact that I had to rewrite everything from the start was the most frustrating 15 hours of my life. I hope that you all like this first chapter as it is an introduction to all the characters in my own AU for this pairing. I know it's a bit of a surprise that this chapter is posted since 'a little too late' isn't over yet but hey, why not? Thank you.

Chapter One - "Different People, Different Lives” [link to FF]

For her, life had always been considered as a strict schedule. Since she was seven years old, the only person she had to watch out in the household was herself. Her parents were either out at work or having wine night with friends. She considered that household as the survival for the fittest. Before she knew it, she fed herself every night by making sandwiches or buying food at the stores by herself with money she would make from a lemonade stand. If she were to really estimate, she would've seen her parents once a week. By the time she turned fourteen, she became a pro at handling everything on her own. The strict schedule she created herself was meant for her to stay focus and never falter under pressure. Despite not having parents, who were providing the parental guidance that she needed, she made sure to guide herself through every obstacle blocking her way. She wouldn't say she was a happy child growing up but rather an adult in child form. By the time she was in high school, she became inspired to become a baker because it was something that made her happy. Half the time when she's alone at home, she would bake endless cookies to share with her teachers. Sometimes she would even bake a cake when it was somebody's birthday. Hearing compliments that she never received as a child from strangers instead of her own family, it gave her a weird feeling. The type of feeling as if she should've felt this way earlier on in life but it was okay. With the praise and love that she was receiving from just making a couple of cookies or stack of cakes, she smiled for the first few times since she was born.

That's when she decided to on what she wanted to be after graduating from high school. To become an aspiring top baker in the world, people say it's really a far fetched dream but with the right determination and focus, she knew that she could do it as soon as she finished school. Life became ironic when her parents suddenly started acting as if she mattered in their lives. Once they heard that she wanted to attend baking school, she saw them more at home during her last week of high school than she did for eighteen years living under the house. They demanded for her to attend university and go for an actual career. The most hilarious part was the fact that they didn't do that for her own benefits but for theirs. Insisting that if she chooses to become a baker, she would be considered as a joke in the whole family. Her parents are lawyers, one of Virginia's top class lawyers that only the best of the best celebrities, politicians and business people come for help. Her older brother became a doctor, one of the most prestigious doctors at the largest hospital. For eighteen years, she lived life as a dull, unhappy person under the household. For once when she found something to do, her parents wanted to put an end to it.

Not wanting to listen to their comparison on what kind of class she should be due to their wealth and power, she stayed on track and immediately enrolled herself into baking school. When her parents found out, they did the exact thing she knew they would do. Her school funds were cut off and she was kicked out of the house. They wanted nothing to do with her just because she wanted to follow her dreams. It didn't make her angry or upset, people like her family - doing something as low as that, it's the norm. And Penelope had already prepared for the worst. Through high school, she took a part time job to save up the money for the payment of the first two years of baking school. As soon as she graduated high school, she took on another part time job as she balanced baking school at the same time. Eventually, she made enough money to pay off the remaining two years all on her own.

Penelope didn't know how to be happy until she surrounded herself with people that shared the same interests as she did. She learned so much from baking school, something that gave her the surge of excitement that no one else could possibly understand. For her, that strict schedule that she depended on was either a bad or good thing. With it, she got to be where she was in baking school with the right determination. But also with it, it constricted her of many things because she didn't know how to react on certain things. And living with that type of strictness, it was hard to break out of it. Balancing between baking school and work for more than two years, she struggled to truly make friends or be happy when she wasn't baking. Oddly enough, by the third year, she met somebody who not only broke the strict schedule but made her feel incredibly happy and bliss with life - for some time before everything fell apart on it's own.

Present Time

"And this will be your desk," Lynda turned around and knit her eyebrows at the blank expression on Penelope's face. "Hello?"

Penelope blinked her eyes in confusion when she saw Lynda's fingers snapping in front of her face. "I'm sorry?"

Lynda sighed as she pointed toward the desk again. "This is your desk, you will be working as a secretary on this floor. And when you - "

"Wait a minute," Penelope stared between the desk and Lynda in confusion. "I'm a secretary? I thought I was supposed to be an intern? An intern for particular department, right?" When she got this job, the idea of working under somebody as an intern to get more hands on learning, it was the most exciting part of the internship. Now, she is being told that she is a secretary instead? "There must be some mistake." Even earlier, this woman had commented on how Penelope was too old to start out as an intern.

"It's not a mistake," Lynda confirmed as she flipped through the pages on the clipboard. "For us, Delicate Bakery & Co starts out their internship differently. Our CEO doesn't trust people who come here for internship that much. He wants to see if the employees are capable of handling more of a task than they signed up for." She handed over the documents for her and briefly smiled. "You will be working under the Team Leader on this floor as his secretary for three months. Under the determination and evaluation of the team leader, the CEO will be the one to decide if he wants to further advance into a position that can actually help out the company."

"Team Leader on this floor?" Penelope skimmed through the documents. As soon as she saw the familiar name in bold letters, her eyes widened as her jaw literally dropped to the floor. "Derek Morgan? I will be working as Derek Morgan's personal secretary?!"

Lynda looked at her nails, making sure her nail color isn't chipped. "Yes, the actual Derek Morgan." The certain kind of tone in her voice by the way she answered made it seem as if she had confirmed the news with the same sentence numerous of times in her years here. "He actually starts work at a later time. He should be here in an hour." She checked the time on her watch and gave Penelope one last glance. "If you have any questions, don't come to me. I have a lot of things on my own plate so figure things out on your own. That's what people do around here, okay?"

Before Penelope had to time to process those words, she watched as Lynda turned around and started strutting across the floor with her heels. She stared at the beautiful heels for a lot longer than she had originally wanted. Even as a child, she never really wanted materialistic things. Nothing about it gave her the same kind of excitement that baking does. Throughout high school, she watched as other teenagers show off their new purses and lipsticks as if it's the most important things in the world. Penelope had tried to get into those type of stuff before but she just couldn't quite understand the concept on worrying about what to wear or what kind of jewelry fits best with a certain outfit. And eventually, she was never given a chance to look at materialistic things anymore. Penelope became more worried about how much diapers she should buy that can last her for a month. Would the price of diapers, toys, clothes for the baby cost her the amount of rent this month or the next? With her family cutting her off, she didn't properly have enough money to survive on her own. With a child? There was a bit of a struggle for the first two years until she got the hang of things. Letting Jensen be happy and have the affordable things she can buy for him was more important than a simple pair of heels on the market.

Settling in at her new desk, she exhaled deeply to control the nerves in her body as she looked around the floor. She was so caught up with her thoughts that she had just realized that she didn't hear anything of what Lynda said about this floor. As she glanced around, she watched as the other employees run around in their heels and shoes - some were rushing toward a copy machine while others were having a conversation about a certain product. She's under the corporate building, isn't she? Frustrated at how she can't start off as a baker right away, Penelope turned back around to look at her own reflection from the laptop screen. Her eyes adverted over to the small calendar on the corner of her desk, it's only March. Three months, she thought to herself. She has to be a secretary for three months and who knows what other position she will have to do before she can actually learn something.

Her eyes adverted over to her phone. Unlocking her phone, she smiled at the picture of Jensen as her wallpaper. The old Penelope, she probably would stress over the unexpected position and start researching everything about it. She would've spent hours on making a schedule so she could accommodate with the other things on her list. Eight years ago, that probably would've happened. Now, the sight of her son just makes her instantly happy and she isn't scared of the unexpected events any longer. There is no such thing as a strict schedule anymore, she doesn't need it. If this is how she is going to start her new job, she will just have to put up with it. For her own child's happiness, anything is possible. Nothing could ever - she stopped thinking and turned her attention over to the far corner room of the floor. The CEO's - no, Luke Alvez's office. She closed her eyes and silently groaned to herself out of frustration. She completely forgot about his existence, let alone at the fact that he's her boss now.

. . .

Luke stared blankly at the resume in his hands. Penelope's name is on the paper in bold letters. He briefly closed his eyes before he placed the paper faced down onto his desk. Rubbing his temples in silent, he tried his best to get his mind together. The sound of knocking on his door distracted him and Lynda walked in with a stack of folders in her arms. "What is all of that?"

"Some of the employees need you to sign off on some of the products that we need," Lynda informed him as she gently placed the folders in front of him. "They can't work until your signature is there."

He almost rolled his eyes. "Can't work? There is no such thing as can't work unless they are just lazy." Skimming through of the list that the employees need for their work, he sighed as he took out his pen from inside his suit. "I don't care if we have to keep buying more papers, pens or whatever they need to get work completed. Tell them if they use the lame excuse as 'can't work' again, I will make sure they won't work in this company again." Luke warned without a single beat. Handing over the folders, he leaned against his seat and shut his eyes. "I want all the Team Leaders to be at the conference meeting on time. If I sit in there for more than thirty minutes, those who don't show up will face consequences."

Lynda nodded her had at the known acknowledgment of the single rule that runs throughout the company. Luke Alvez never likes sitting in the conference room for more than thirty minutes. As soon as time has hit its mark, he doesn't care what conversation was happening or if someone was trying to suggest an idea, he would just walk out of the room. "Would you like coffee or tea today, Sir?"

"Coffee." Luke replied as he loosened the tie around his neck.

Lynda clenched onto the folders and nervously looked at him. "I'm sorry to keep asking this but how do you take your coffee again?"

Luke closed his eyes as he softly scoffed. "Miss Bryan, how long have you been working for Delicate Bakery?"

"Three Years, Sir."

"It honestly surprises me that you still can't remember the way I take my coffee after working as my assistant for three years so far," Luke opened his eyes and looked at Lynda. Standing up from his seat, he walked over to the windows and crossed his arms as he stared at the view outside. "Three packets of sugar and half cream." From the reflection, he could see Lynda jotting it down in her notes before rushing out of his office. Luke tapped his foot against the floor board as he stared blankly toward the clouds. There are so many thoughts roaming around his head, he simply can't think properly right now. How is this even possible? In six years, of all people, why did it have to be her? Feeling irritated and at a complete loss, he could feel the locked memories that he hid away were starting to creep back up after so long.

Seamless Bakery School, 8 and a half years ago.

Luke rubbed his eyes as he glared at the board in front of him. No matter how hard he tried to stay focus and pay attention to the lesson today, he just can't bear to stay awake. Feeling extremely tired and less motivated as everybody else spoke in hush, excitement tone about the upcoming baking exam - Luke is dreading over the day. He's currently repeating his third year in baking school for the second time. As humiliating as it is, there is nothing he can do about it. His instructors has already given up on him at this point. The amount of effort they put in to help him on successfully bake a single cake has reached it's limit. While other students have already made every known bakery good in the world by their second year, Luke still hasn't made a single one. And it's not like the bakery school is going to do something about him since he had already paid for his classes in advance. Most of his time, Luke would spend in silence during class. On days where they are actually in the kitchen, he would be stuck with fanning out the smoke that he caused.

With a strain on the back of his neck, he quietly exit out of class and started roaming around the hallways. Since it's the weekend, there are only two active classes for the day. As he paced around the halls, he halted his steps once he heard a conversation by the corner. Leaning against the wall, he watched as an instructor took a bite of a piece of cake and moaned in delight. "Penelope, this is totally on the next level. It's seriously unbelievable."

A young woman with a small smile spread across her face as she held the cake. "Thank you."

"You amaze me every single time." The instructor took another slice of cake and patted Penelope at the back. "Top of the world."

Luke watched the young woman's expression carefully. Besides the small smile from earlier, she is practically stoned faced. Furrowing his eyebrows together in confusion, shouldn't someone smile at a compliment being told? As the instructor walked back into her class, the woman placed the lid back onto the cake so it wouldn't go dry. Before Luke had time to process it, he stared at her as she started quietly screaming to herself as she jumped up and down in excitement. He chuckled at the sight of her dancing for a few minutes before turning around to return back to class. If he's gone too long, he'll receive a penalty toward his grades.

"Hey!" Penelope rushed over to him, grabbing his arm and forcibly turned him around to face her. "Did you just seem me uh, dance?"

"If you call wiggling your arms and legs in the air as dancing, sure." Luke chuckled.

Penelope groaned in humiliation as she cleared her throat. "Do you mind if you erase the image of the dancing out of your mind?"

Luke stared at the woman who he doesn't know but somehow grew an interest in within seconds of talking to her. "That depends," he glanced down at the cake in her hand. "Are you willing to share another piece of cake?"

Present Time

Luke tapped his fingers against the conference table as he stared at the team leaders in the room. Drawing out a deep breath, he adverted his eyes over to the wall across the room. "Where is Derek Morgan?"

Lynda cleared her throat as she checked the time on her watch. "He sent a message about how he's currently stuck in traffic. He'll be here in ten minutes."

"I've been sitting here for ten minutes already," Luke said coldly as he opened up all the folders that the team leaders had handed over to him. "Is this really all of the ideas that you have for the spring season?" Spring season is the busiest season any bakery or flower shop can have due to the fact that a lot of holidays fall into that season. Having the perfect baked goods is critical for a company like theirs. One little mistake or failed product, their sales will suffer a plummet. "I asked for new ideas," he looked at them in annoyance. "I didn't ask for a list of ingredients for a possible recipe to be made. There's no such thing as a possible recipe in this building. Either you have an idea and the ideal format of how the product will come out, possible recipes are nothing but just a list for me. How are you 100% positive that these list of ingredients are going to sell? How is it going to compare with the items on display that we have for Delicate?" He closed all the folders in frustration. "And how are you positive that it will work with our image as Delicate Bakery & Co?!"

Tara Lewis cleared her throat as she pulled out a different folder. "I actually have a proposed idea with everything that you're asking. I think that this idea does fit with our image perfectly. Since spring season is here, I was thinking that maybe we can add a couple of new flavors for one of our - "

"Lewis, what department did I assign you to be in charge of?" Luke interrupted her, his eyes are now focusing toward the walls - not wanting to look at anybody in the room at the moment.

"Marketing Department."

Luke folded his hands as he spoke. "I didn't know that the marketing team had any involvement on what kind of bakery goods or pastries will be on display for Delicate. I assigned you for the marketing department because you have talent in that particular area." He snapped his fingers for Lynda to hurry and grab the folder that Tara is holding. As soon as the folder was placed in front of him, he took it and looked at Tara straight in the eyes. "I hope you will refrain yourself from trying to come up with ideas like this. It will have no use, it's the same exact thing I told you three weeks ago. When I said no, I meant it." He threw the folder over to the trash bin by the door without hesitation. "I don't care what hard work was done byyou to come up with those useless ideas but forget about it. Are we on the same page now?"

Feeling as if she could say nothing else to convince otherwise, Tara simply nodded her head. "I understand."

Checking the time on his watch again, Luke lets out a sigh. "Text Derek Morgan again and if he isn't here in five minutes, he's getting another warning."

. . .

Penelope couldn't believe how big the company's guidebook actually is. She has been trying her best to read through the guidelines of how the company wants their jobs done and what area she needs to work on but this book has to be at least 500 pages. In one glance, it's understandable since Delicate Bakery & Co is a company that holds 25,000 employees. If something like this didn't exist, the employees would think they could do anything in the building. She groaned as she lay her head against the table. If she was her younger self, she would find reading through all these pages as purely nothing but something that had to be strictly done. Now, this her, the different Penelope Garcia - finds things like this a complete nuisance. She has gone through three years of constant diaper changes, milk being thrown at her face and food that had to be cleaned off the floor more than twice. She was so busy doing all of those things, reading anything became a bother and time consuming. There is absolutely no energy in her twenty-seven year old body to look through a 500 page guidebook like this.

The sound of elevator doors opening distracted Penelope from her thoughts. Automatically, she stood up with her eyes widened and a bright smile on her face as she watched Derek Morgan walk out of the elevators. She couldn't believe this is actually happening. The actual legendary Derek Morgan is here in front of her. With years of experience under his belt, he became a world champion of two international baking competitions. Some of his baking are considered as one of the most unique fusion creations there is. "Hello!" Penelope quickly said as he stopped by her desk. "I am your new secretary. My name is - "

"Follow me." Derek said as he looked through his phone and started pacing faster toward the conference room. Knocking on the door twice, he opened it with a bright smile as he made eye contact with Luke. "Alvez! I am so sorry for being late!"

"It honestly surprises every single time how you always happen to be late when we have our weekly meetings like this, Team Leader Derek Morgan." To his own surprise, he watched as Penelope followed Derek's every movement after entering the conference room. Avoiding eye contact with her, he turned his gaze back over to Derek. "What was it this time? Your cat died?"

Derek lightly chuckled. "Nonsense," he took out a folder from his briefcase and smiled. "Traffic." He glanced around at the others around the table, he could tell that somebody got yelled at. Considering at how he's the only one that has the courage to say his mind toward Alvez, he leaned against his seat. "Come on, did you seriously yell? How old is this?"

Ignoring his comment, Luke exhaled deeply. "Where's your proposed idea?"

Penelope stood in the corner of the room in complete amazement. She could feel her hand shaking from nervousness as she stared at everybody in the room. Only the best of the best in Virginia are sitting in the same place as she breathes. Is this even real life right now? Her eyes couldn't look away from the woman with effortlessly long, wavy blond hair and clear blue eyes and her name is Jennifer Jareau, even her name is beautiful. Jennifer can be considered as the best baker in Virginia. With five gold medals from competitions around the world, she is practically an idol for most aspiring bakers. Being so young and extremely talented, six of the ten most popular bakery goods for Delicate is all of her own creation. She contributes a huge part of her talent toward the success for Delicate. Sitting across from Jennifer was Spencer Reid, probably the most successful one out of everyone in the room. Due to his amazing academic background, it's almost as if he can do anything if he puts all his energy into it. Maybe that's why his designs on the cake are completely out of this world. The attention and details that he puts into some of the most amazing designs are insane. For Penelope, it would take her more than a year to try and perfect the same kind of design. For Spencer Reid, an hour or so - he would be completely done and the cake is off to being on display for people to purchase.

Holding the folder up in the air for Lynda to quickly grab it from him, Derek watched as Luke scanned through the pages. Furrowing his eyebrows together, he looked around for the woman that he had just ordered to follow him. What was her name? Crap, he thought to himself. Did he just ignore her because he was too busy reading Lynda's message about Luke giving him a warning if he doesn't come in five minutes? Finding her in the corner of the room, Derek waved his hand but she still didn't respond. "Hey! New girl!"

Penelope returned back to reality at the word new girl ringing through her ears. "Yes?"

"I need my coffee." Derek said. "Two sugars and one cream."

"Coffee?" Penelope cleared her throat. "Of course."

Luke looked down at his desk, noticing that he still hasn't had his coffee. "Miss Bryan."

Lynda glanced up from her tablet. "Yes?"

"I clearly remember you asking about my coffee, don't you remember?" Luke hit the table gently with his closed fist as he arched an eyebrow.

Her eyes widened at the realization that she forgot about his drink. "I am so sorry, Sir. Let me get it right away."

"No!" Derek urged Lynda to sit back down in her seat as he laughed. "New girl is getting mine so she should also get his."

Lynda looked at Penelope. "Uh, the way he takes his coffee is - "

"Three packets of sugar and half a cream." Penelope muttered softly absentmindedly as she walked around the table. She halted her steps as soon as she noticed everybody was staring at her now.

"How do you know about the way he take his coffee?" Lynda asked in confusion. Even she has a hard time remembering it after three years and that's only because she has the tendency to not remember things about people who she dislikes.

Penelope didn't know what to say, she just froze. For the first time since being in the room, both her and Luke exchanged eye contact with each other. It only lasted for five seconds but that much was already enough for her. "The reason I know is - "

"I told her when you first brought her in before she started working today." Luke interrupted. "Can we go back to the meeting properly now?" From a side glance, he could see Penelope rushing her steps out of the room. "This proposed idea of yours," he looked at Derek. "Do you believe this can be our next best work?"

Derek chuckled at the fact that Luke still has doubts on him. "Trust me. I believe that if Jennifer and I work together to perfect the details with each other and taste out the product. Whatever is missing, we'll add it and go on from there." He smiled at Jennifer. "There isn't a problem right?"

Jennifer shook her head. "No." She knew that if Derek wanted his creation to come into a reality, he could just do it on his own. The fact that he is bringing her into the project is because he didn't want to be lonely and suffer through Luke's upcoming harsh critics about the product if it goes bad.

Taking his pen out of his suit, he signed off on the idea and directed his attention toward both Derek and Jennifer. "I want this to be tested by next week and the final product out in two weeks. Spring Season isn't a joke and we need a new headliner for the buyers. One mistake, it will cost both of your jobs."

"We understand."

Spencer glanced over at the folder that was thrown in the trash bin earlier. "I think maybe if you also try and - "

"It's been thirty minutes. Meeting's dismissed." Without another word or even glance, Luke stood up from his seat and walked out the door.

Tara scoffed as soon as the room was cleared with only her and the rest of her friends. "I seriously despise him."

Lynda sighed as she leaned her head against Jennifer's shoulders. "I hate my job."

Derek arched an eyebrow at the tension between his friends. "What happened? Did I miss something major? Was he seriously yelling?!"

"Towards Tara," Spencer answered. "It would help if you would stop being late all the time for these meetings. You know that he hates you the most so his anger towards you is directed towards us if you're not here!"

"He loves me," Derek corrected, barely holding in his laughter as soon as those words left his mouth. It's not a secret that he and Luke Alvez personally don't get along. Their opinions and personalities clash at each other a lot. This year alone, they've had countless of fights in the building that had to be stopped by other employees. "I'll try to be on time next time."

"Don't try," Jennifer warned. "Be on time next week."

Derek frowned as he walked toward the door. "I don't know. I think my cat might be sick next week." He immediately ducked when they started throwing pens at him which caused him to hit the floor as he laughed even harder.

. . .

Luke clenched onto his tie to loosen it as he fasten his steps toward the hallways. Just as he turned the corner toward his office, he bumped into Penelope. The sounds of the glass shattering onto the ground was deafened by Penelope's sharp scream. To keep her from falling onto the broken glass, he quickly wrapped his arm around her waist. They both froze as soon as they noticed that their faces were inches from each other.

Penelope breathed heavily as she clenched onto his button shirt. She glanced between the broken glass that's right under her and then Luke, who is still staring at her. Feeling suffocated at the close proximity, she pushed him off and straightened her clothes out as she cleared her throat. "Thanks."

Looking down at his drenched coffee stained shirt, he rolled his eyes at the mess that surrounds him. "You need to be careful next time."

It's as if her ears were blocked but she could've sworn that he is trying to put the blame on her. "Excuse me? You're the one that bumped into me!"

"I wouldn't have bumped into you if you - " Luke just stopped talking. "What's even the point of trying to argue with you?" He was about to leave but he stopped and stared at her. "I am telling you this now but I am warning you. This company will not know the history between us. It's none of their business and we have no business with each other besides work related."

Penelope scoffed. "Don't worry. It'll be the last thing I want everybody to know about me."

"If one word gets out, I'm going to - "

“What? Fire me?" She could really careless about him right now. "If you want to fire me, go ahead."

"Fire?" Derek walked over with his arms crossed as he looked between the two adults. "I hope you're not already thinking about firing my new secretary, Alvez. That'll be the sixth one, give me a break."

Luke didn't bother looking at him as he was checking if his sleeves were also dirty. "She might not be the most qualified secretary for us."

"And how are we supposed to know if she is truly qualified or not if you want to fire her?" Derek bent down to help Penelope clean up the broken glass. "A lady shouldn't be picking up sharp things. It could harm their hands, let me help you." "No, it's really okay." Penelope insisted as she tried to stop him.

Luke watched as the both of them laugh in silence. The way that Penelope was literally staring at Derek Morgan as if he was some kind of role model somehow didn't make him feel good. Without another glance, he walked straight into his office.

. . .

He knows what people think of him on daily basis. He knows what people say about him as soon as walks past them around the building. Nothing in his own company is a secret. For him, he doesn't care about those little things because they don't affect his life whatsoever. In other terms, he is the one that signs their paychecks at the end of the month. Whether people like him or not, that's their own business. If they decide to openly share their dislike about him to other people, he doesn't care.

Luke Alvez wasn't always like this - the stoned cold expression and no funny business type of guy. In fact, eight years ago, the old Luke Alvez was actually the complete opposite. He grew up as a happy child, there was nothing that he didn't have. He wasn't rich or even well off. His parents struggled to keep hold of four different jobs but they never complained. In his household, his parents made him believe that they were in a castle. Anything he ever wanted, he would've had it by next day. From a child's perspective, he believed his parents were wizards. It wasn't until when he reached middle school that he slowly realize how harsh life was for his family. Knowing the truth only caused him to work harder on making his parents laugh after their hard day at work. He would always make sure that he had ton of stories to share around the dinner table, he would stop complaining about not having a bedtime story before bed because he wanted his parents to sleep early instead. Eventually, he became determined to work hard on himself as student so his parents could have a son that they were proud of.

Happiness was always something that he was surrounded around growing up. It wasn't until his third year in baking school is when he learned how it felt to have your happiness taken away and fall into a deep depression for years. The longing pain that kept growing, the aching heart that wouldn't go away - everything that used to make him happy, makes him extremely angry more than anything. His parents said he was awfully different nowadays and they don't even know how to face their child. That's how severe it got and he knows that it'll probably get worse as times goes on. It's as if he is a different person with a different life than how he was eight years ago.

Present Time, Sunny's Diner

"Ah, there is my favorite customer!" The cook handed over the packed bag over to the waitress and smiled. "Always on the same exact day and time."

Luke briefly smiled as he placed some cash onto the counter. "This is the best food to eat on a Monday night."

The waitress sweetly smiled at him as she gave him the cash change. "Take it easy on the bacon, handsome. You may be in your twenties, it doesn't matter if you keep stuffing yourself with so much bacon even if it's your favorite."

"Thanks."

Luke took his late dinner and was about to head out of the door when he saw someone familiar sitting at the back of the diner. Penelope was so preoccupied with cutting up the bacon slices into smaller pieces that she didn't notice anything else around her. "I don't understand you. You could've chosen anything to eat for dinner and you picked breakfast?" She narrowed her eyes at Jensen as she made some tsking sounds with her tongue. "Was the breakfast I made for you not good enough?"

Jensen giggled as he colored in his book. "Your breakfast was good, Mommy." Sliding the plate of bacon over to him as she cleaned up his coloring book, she smiled at the sight of him trying to chew the bacon. "You just love bacon too much, don't you?"

"It makes me dance!" Jensen started wiggling his arms and legs around which made Penelope hysterically laughing because his legs were still dangling in the air since he's short.

Luke couldn't believe this. He never thought in a million years that he would see Penelope Garcia with a child next to her, somebody who looks like an exact replica of herself. Did she get married? When did she get married? Is she happy with her husband and kid? For some reason, the aching pain around his chest is returning and as he stared at them. He took a step forward but halted when he heard somebody calling out Penelope's name. One small glance, a man came out from the bathroom and smiled brightly toward her. Not wanting to stay here any longer, he clenched onto his packed dinner bag and rushed out of the diner.

Penelope glanced away from Jensen and screamed in delight at the sight of her friend. "Rossi!"

David Rossi chuckled as he hugged her. "Hey, kid."

Jensen waved his oily hand at Rossi and smiled. "Hi, Uncle Rossi."

As Penelope and Rossi held onto each other's arms while they discussed about their day, Penelope failed to see Luke driving past the diner and toward the dark road ahead.

[trexrambling]

Bite Me (Part 5)

Characters: Reader, Sam, Dean (no pairings yet)

Warnings: Not much for this chapter, just mention of injuries

Overview: You were raised in the hunter life. You fell out of it. It wasn’t your choice to get pulled back in.

Word Count: 1,569

A/N: This is the fifth installment in my first ever fanfic. I love how much love you guys keep giving me :) You make my typing fingers very happy! This is more of a connecting chapter, so bear with me. It just mean’s I’ll post part 6 sooner rather than later! These words, like everything else I write, are for me. Feel free to join me in the adventure.

Read (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

“And this here’s Bobby,” Uncle Jay said, pointing at the worn picture with his calloused finger. “One of the best hunting buddies a guy could have.” We were sifting through a box filled with old photographs and odd mementos that I had found tucked behind some books while searching for a particular title on Greek Mythology. Uncle Jay had smiled when I brought it out, eager to take a walk down memory lane. My eyes roamed the photograph containing a large group of hunters, pausing on a set of boys. They were the youngest in the photo by a good number of years. 

I pointed. “Who are they?”

Uncle Jay let out a brief chuckle. “Them’s the Winchester boys.” His pointer finger traced the photo again. “Man behind them is their daddy, John. This one-” he tapped the slightly shorter figure- “that’s Dean. Real spitfire, that one. And the other, Sammy, he has a good head on his shoulders. One of the most mature fifteen year olds I’ve ever met. Gosh-” he scratched his bristled chin- “Kid must be… at least twenty by now. Close to your age, Small Fry. That’d put Dean around twenty-four, give or take.” He sighed deeply and placed the crumpled image back in the box before closing the lid. “Now-” he picked up the book on mythology- “what have we found out about our siren?” And just like that we were back on the case at hand.

The Winchester boys’ faces stayed with me. I went back to the box later than night and removed the photograph of hunters, folding it in half on an existent crease and slipping it into my wallet. I took the photo with me wherever I went, a reminder through the blood, pain, and hurt that there were others out there like me. Two boys, now young men, living and breathing the hunter life. I wondered if they were given a choice. I wondered if they’d tried to get out of it all. I wondered if they had bigger hopes and dreams for a life not involving salt lines, shotguns, and solitary. I wondered if they had nightmares that would wake them in a state of panic in the dead of night. I wondered what they feared while living an existence alongside monsters. I wondered how much they were like me. And just having that photograph gave me a glimmer of hope, a hope to connect with someone outside of mine and Uncle Jay’s small world.

“Hey, come on, you can’t sleep.” Someone was gently shaking my arm. “You need to wake up.”

“Bite me,” I growled low in my throat, and the hand quickly disappeared.

“What did she say?” That would be Dean.

I opened my eyes a slit to see Sam looking at me over his shoulder and Dean trying to catch my reflection in the mirror. “I said, ‘Thanks for keeping my well being such a pressing concern.’” Dean scowled at my sarcasm while Sam’s expression remained blank. I internally smacked myself. It wasn’t their fault I felt like pudding with nerve endings that had been set on fire. It was my fault, and I knew it. I was just mad at myself, and that self-loathing was seeping into everything else.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, “I’m what some people would call ‘touchy’ at times. But yes, no sleeping. I’m 98% sure I have a concussion.” The dizziness and throbbing pain behind my eyes continued to confirm my theory. I hadn’t been sleeping. I had been planning and making checklists. I had a to-go pack stuffed into my attic, but considering that the vamps were dead I had decided to give myself an hour to get my things together and remove any trace of myself from the house. I tacked on another fifteen to thirty minutes just in case the line of questioning that the Winchesters were bound to unfold ended up being longer than expected.

I glanced down at my leg. It was the worst of my injuries. I needed to set it soon. A deep, plum looking bruise had formed beneath the skin where Iver had, from the looks of the markings, driven his foot down to break the bone. Sam, still looking at me, followed my gaze and winced slightly. “You really should let us take you to the hospital.”

I looked out the window. “We’re almost to my house,” was my reply.

The rest of the ride was in tense silence, my brain still calculating the next few hours while the Winchesters undoubtedly ran through the possible scenarios they could be walking into. When the front wheels of the car finally crested the 0.35-mile driveway that wound to my house, I calmly righted myself in the seat and started to methodically scan the surrounding woods. My hunter instincts were fully engaged, as they had been since I awoke on the vamp’s mattress no more than three hours ago. If there was any movement in the trees, I would see it.

The hybrid house I called home finally came into view. I say hybrid because it looked as though someone had taken a cabin the middle of the Appalachian Mountains and married it to a cookie-cutter condo from the suburbs of California. The structure sported a shiny tin roof with a stucco chimney shooting out the top, logs for the base of the house, and dull red bricks completing the rest of the exterior walls. Most people would look at the house and unconsciously turn up their nose. It was a Frankenstein house, and I loved everything about it. The fact that it was dead set in the undesirable middle of “next to downtown” and “mountain resort” meant that I was able to pay for it with next-to-nothing-cash. Everything that was defective to the general public was a complement to who I was – pieces patched together, yet strong and whole. The reality that I was going to be leaving this place in loosely two hours had me biting the inside of my cheek to keep the dam of tears that had broken earlier at bay.

As soon as all movement had stopped and the car was in park, my hand found the door’s handle and swung it open. “Woah, hey, hold on a second.” Sam quickly exited the car and came around to my side, lowering himself until one knee was on the ground and the other was propped up by his foot. He held out a lock picking kit. “First, I think it’s time we got rid of that chain. Second,” he smiled at me slightly, “you may be strong, but I have a feeling you’ll need an extra hand making it up the steps.”

I glanced at the four, tall steps leading up to my front door, then back at Sam, surrender clearly written across my face. Thwarted by the stairs of doom once more. I slowly turned until both of my feet were dangling out the side of the car. Sam hesitantly reached for my chained ankle, meeting my eyes and waiting for me to give him a nod of consent before he carefully placed it on his knee. I watched his fingers expertly dig around with the metal and pins until a small ‘click’ signaled the lock’s release. I was impressed at his speed – almost as good as me. Almost. Sam bent the metal ring on its hinge and my ankle was finally free. Shallow angry welts wrapped around my flesh; the metal cuff had been too small and had cut into my skin.

Sam dropped the chain on the ground and returned my foot to its dangling position. After placing his kit back in his pocket, he slid an arm under mine to support the majority of my weight before easing me out of the car. The ground tilted and I clutched Sam’s upper arm a bit tighter, swallowing deeply to deter the rising nausea and blinking slowly until things were back in place.

“This would be a whole lot easier if I just carried you,” Sam stated, still making it clear that the decision was mine. I swallowed again, but this time it was to suppress my pride.

“Ok,” I surrendered to logic. “Thank you,” I quickly added as an afterthought. Sam picked me up into his arms again, more careful with my broken leg than he had been before. I was so used to the aching fire that it barely registered. Now that all planning for future progression was complete, my mind only had one train of thought that I had previously quelled.

Arlo. Please God, anyone, please…

Sam carried me up the steps, Dean following closely behind, gun still in hand. The wooden front door was slightly ajar, either from where Gareth had grabbed me earlier or a different source, I wasn’t sure. Gratitude for the green-eyed hunter grew as he placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, sliding around us to take the lead with his gun trained in front of him. Dean placed a foot on the door and slowly pushed it open, the wood swinging silently on its well oiled hinges. He stepped through first, pausing to notice the salt line encased between the two pieces of wood that made up my doorframe, before continuing into the house. Sam and I were right behind him.

Home again, home again, jiggity –

I never finished the thought.

-Read Part 6-

Tags: @wheresthekillswitch @pinknerdpanda @emilywritesaboutdean @ruprecht0420 @arryn-nyxx @jotink78 @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @super-not-natural @a-bouquet-of-fandoms @jensen-jarpad @sama1314 @mamabear82nd @tas898 @findingfitnessforme @docharleythegeekqueen @ilikaicalie @sveskee @super-not-naturall @celahcain @impala-dreamer @daughterleftbehind

[girlfromthesilentplanet-blog]

Morningstar: A FBAWTFT Fan-Fic Prologue

To My Native American Mutuals/Betareaders/Translators

Thank you for collaborating with me, and helping me to write this fic.  Thank you for your time, your effort, and your patience with me.  I love you.  

@istamaza

@unwarie

@young-soul-rebel

@trails-of-tears

@baapi-makwa

@chiefladybirdart

@apachefangirl1

To My HP/FBAWTFT Universe Consultant

Thanks for weaning me off my addiction to the Oxford Comma, and for answering all the questions about the HP universe I didn’t know I had.

@asktina

pottermore.com

To My Fellow White People,

As some of you know, I’ve been working on a Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts fan fiction over the course of the past few weeks.  This fic is the product of a collaboration between me, and several mutuals who are members of the Native American community on tumblr.  I started writing it because after JK began expanding the HP universe into the US, I (like many others) noticed she’d used a lot of lore from Native American cultures, but had included almost no NA characters.  While all this was still unfolding, one of my [white] friends irl said that: “this [JKs appropriation] is why writers should only write about white characters.  It’s just less of a hassle.”  

I didn’t respond for 30 seconds because...you guys probably know why.

So, anyway, I was partially motivated to write and post this fic as a giant “FUCK YOU” to my [former] friend.  I was also motivated by the fact that, in the wake of 400 years of NA oppression (more specifically the revival of DAPL by Lord Dampnut), there shouldn’t be any questions about whether or not we “want” stories about NA characters.  We NEED stories about NA characters; and to create them, we shouldn’t feel self-conscious about asking NA writers and artists for help.  It’s not our culture.  Most of us have never been within 10 miles of a reservation.  We never learned about NA history or culture outside of the movie Pocahontas.  We can still write good NA characters.  We just have to do our homework.  I hope this fic helps teach some of my fellow creators/writers how to do that.  

Without further ado, here is the Prologue to my fic.

[Content Warning: Aurors being Assholes, Illegal Pipelines, Imperius Curse, Badass Centenarians]

When the Man Comes Around

And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder... and I looked, and behold, a pale horse;  And the name of him who rode it was death; And hell followed with him.

-The Book of Revelation

They traveled together under cover of nightfall; about a dozen of them.  All experienced aurors, wands drawn, walking through the wild South Dakota winter.  

Their leader was a young man by the name of Jensen.  He’d been an auror for more than a decade.  He was about 30 years old, tall, with blonde hair and stony grey eyes that now scanned the snowy horizon around them.  

As the aurors walked into the No-Maj camp, a lone figure hobbled over.  An old man with a winter coat and long greying hair, looked at them with dark eyes.

“Hello, can I help you?” he asked.  

The Aurors looked at Jensen, who seemed unfazed.  He looked somewhat contemptuously at the No-Maj standing before them.

“We are looking for Azubah Wakina, also known as Ten-Wands.”

The old man’s face shifted into a suspicious expression.  “What do you want with the Akicita1? Are you from the government?  This is a place of prayer.  You people aren’t welcome.”

Several aurors raised their wands, but Jensen stopped them and addressed the elder.

“What can we offer you?” he asked.

The elder grimaced in disgust. “Are you trying to bribe me? I’m sorry young man, you’ll have to take your search elsewhere.”  He turned and began to walk away from the aurors.

Jensen raised his wand. “Imperio.”

The elder froze.  His face went blank.

“Show us where Ten Wands is,” said Jensen, coldly.

The Elder turned around, and shuffled forward out of the camp. The aurors followed.

Up on a hill, overlooking the rest of the camp, was a tipi.  

Jensen motioned to the other Aurors.  “Chaput, Boot, you come with me.  Everyone else, surround the tent, draw your wands, be ready for my signal.”

Chaput took the Elder gently by the arm and pointed his wand at the old man’s neck.  The three aurors entered the tent, Jensen at the front, then Boot, and Chaput with the Elder bringing up the rear.

A white-haired woman sat in front of the fire.  Several eagle tail feathers hung from a braid down her back.  Eleven wands were showcased in a stand that hung from the Tipi walls, along with a shield, a spear, and a broomstick that looked as though it had never been used 2.  

The woman seemed to sense that someone had entered.  She looked up from the fire, and without turning towards the aurors, spoke in Lakota.

“Is something wrong, brother?”

Jensen raised his wand. “Azubah Wakina, also known as Ten Wands?”

The woman turned to them and smiled slightly.  “Hello, how sweet of you to visit an old woman like me.”

Boot raised his wand, his hand shaking.  “Stay back.”

The old woman rose from her seat.  She seemed slightly amused at Boot’s fearfulness.

“Before you take me away to face your congress, may I ask how you found me?”

Jensen motioned to Chaput, who pushed the elder forward.  The elder’s eyes were glassy, and he looked confused and dazed.  

Azubah’s face fell into a look of horror.  Jensen smiled.

“Azubah Wakina, You’re under arrest for violating the International Statute of Secrecy.  Any resistance on your part will be warrent a death sentance.  Do you understand?”

Azubah ignored him, walking forward, and steadying the elder with one hand on his shoulder.  She then looked past him at the aurors, her black eyes blazing.

“Do any of you have any shame for what you have done?”

The fire in the tipi suddenly dimmed.  For the first time, Jensen’s face fell into a look of apprehension.  Boot looked utterly terrified.

“S-stay back,” he stammered.

Azubah looked at him, and smiled.  Suddenly, the fire in the tipi went out.  There was a creaking and a great roar.  The Tipi was ripped off it’s hinges, and immediately disappeared into the winter wind.

Multiple flashes of light exploded into the snowy air.

“STUPEFY”

“EXPELLIARMUS”

Several aurors screamed as a crack rang out.

In the thick falling snow and the mercilessly chilly wind, none of the aurors could see.

“WHERE IS SHE?” shouted Chaput, before he doubled over, hit by a stunning spell in the stomach.

Jensen lowered his wand.  He knew that No-Maj from the camp would be arriving soon to investigate the noise.  Azubah Wakina was gone, and the elder was nowhere in sight.  

“FALL BACK!” he shouted, his words ripped away by the wind roaring over the plain.

Back at the camp, there was another crack.  An elder suddenly appeared in front of the hospital tent, dazed, cold, and confused.  Clutched in his hand was the eagle feather that had hung from the old woman’s braid.

Hundreds of miles away, in a log cabin in Arizona’s Mogollon Rim, retired Auror Misko Stone was sleeping in front of a typewriter.  It was about 2:00 in the morning.  In the cabin’s large stone fireplace, several large embers glowed.  

All of a sudden, there was a crack.  Misko started awake, his wand drawn.  Standing in front of the fire was a white haired woman, covered in snow.

Misko lowered his wand in shock.

“...Akicita? What—”

Azubah smiled, “Hello, young one. how are you?”

Misko was utterly taken aback.  “I’m well, I...wasn’t expecting…” his voice dropped off.

Azubah smiled a toothless smile, “Of course you weren’t.  How is your story?”  She looked past Misko at the typewriter on the desk.  Misko looked at the blank piece of paper in the machine and sighed.

“It’s going...fine.  I’m supposed to be compiling an outline for Kanuna.  She’s more of a storyteller, and her memory is better than mine in my age.”

Azubah looked completely unimpressed.  Misko sensed her disdain and changed the subject.

“So, what brings you this far southwest?”

Azubah gave him a piercing glance, “I’m almost a hundred and fifty years old, boy, I think I’ve earned the right to come and go where I please.”

Misko smiled. “True,” he said.  He suddenly glanced down at the pile of newspapers sitting by the fire.  “Have you been reading the No-Maj newspapers recently?”

Azubah shook her head.  “Why would I? It’s all on their machines now.  Can’t stand it.”

Misko looked troubled. “They’ve been writing about this...pipeline...in the Dakotas.”

“They want to build a black snake through which they can transport poison across our land; across our waterways.  The No-Maj government has stepped in using ice water and hot lead.  I’ve been...monitoring things.”

Misko chuckled. “MACUSA must love that.  Why are you here now?”

Azubah paused.  The chaos, horror, and cold of the skirmish at Standing Rock suddenly washed over her.  She was exhausted.  

Misko seemed to sense this.  “Akicita?”

Azubah pressed a hand to her forehead.  “Is there a place I can sit?” she asked.

Misko jumped out of his seat.  “Of course,” he pulled a chair from beside the fireplace.  Azubah collapsed into it.  Misko grabbed his wand. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Cocoa? Giggle Water?”

Azubah winced. “Anything but Giggle Water, it makes my head spin.”

Misko waved his wand.  The iron stove in the corner lit itself, and a kettle full of water floated down from a shelf and situated itself over the flame.  With another flick of Misko’s wand, a blanket from another seat by the fire unfolded itself, and wrapped itself around Azubah’s shoulders.  

Misko turned back to Azubah.  “We should get you out of your wet clothes.  I know Joel has some extra things in the bedroom, I’m just worried they might be a little big.”

“That’s fine, Misko. Thank you.”  Azubah murmured.

Misko ran into the small bedroom that sat adjacent to the living room and began to rifle through a chest of drawers.  In the queen size bed in the corner of the room, another man, about Misko’s age, stirred.  His hair was long and grey, his face was covered in scars, and his nose looked as though it had been broken at some point in the past.  

“Misko? What’appening?” said the man, sleepily.

“It’s the Akicita, don’t worry.” muttered Misko, and then he paused. “Joel, where do you keep your flannel again?”

“Top drawer,” said Joel.  “Did you say the Akicita was here?” he opened his eyes, “What happened?”

Misko nodded.  “Yea, she arrived about 15 minutes ago.  She’s in a pretty bad way, I don’t know what happened yet.  She’s in the living room.”

Joel roused himself, and climbed out of bed.  Misko followed him, a pair of flannel pajamas in his arms.

When Misko and Joel entered the living room, Azubah was still sitting by the fire, wrapped in a blanket, with a weary look on her face.  Joel raised his hand.

“Hau Akicita, mačhante čhetetanhan 3.” he said, greeting Azubah in Lakota.

Azubah smiled, “I knew I could count on a proper welcome from my southern brother.”  She looked at the two men apologetically, “I’m sorry to bother you so late.”

Misko shook his head.  “Don’t be silly, I got you some clothes from the bedroom.”

Azubah chuckled, “That’s very sweet of you, Misko.  You really have mellowed in your old age, even if your memory has waned as much as you say.”

Misko opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it.  He bit his tongue.  Azubah chuckled.

Joel pulled up a chair and sat across from the old woman.  “We’ve been following what’s been happening at Standing Rock.  MACUSA released a statement a few days ago saying that Wizards weren’t allowed to interfere.”

Azubah let out a low, bitter laugh. “That sounds about right.”

Joel gave a tight smile. “Kanuna sent us an owl last week.  Apparently, they’re watching her house.  She’s gone to Tulsa to lie low for a while.”

Misko turned towards the fire, placing the flannels on the mantle.   “I don’t understand why they would do this.  Why now?”

Azubah looked at him, her brow furrowed, “Misko Awasajiw4 Stone, what I want to know is why you would be surprised by any of this.”

Misko stared defeatedly into the fire.  “I thought things had changed, after everything we did...”

“Then your wishful thinking has blinded you.”  snapped Azubah.

Joel rose from his seat, took the flannels from the mantle, and handed them to Azubah.  In his right hand, he clutched his wand.  

“Should I cast a fidelius charm?” he asked.

Azubah nodded, “Thank you, Joel.”

Before Joel left, he took Misko by the arm.

“Hey.” he whispered, gently.

Misko looked up at Joel.  “Yea?”

“You’re the secret keeper,” said Joel.

“Okay,” murmured Misko.

As soon as Joel had exited the cabin armed with his wand, Misko walked slowly back to his desk and slumped into his chair.

Azubah looked back at the fire, wringing out her wet hair.  

“Akicita?” murmured Misko.  

Azubah looked back at him.  “Yes, child?”

“Does it ever end? Ever?”

Azubah looked back towards the fire. “No,” she said, “and it makes remembering the past all the more important.”  

There was a pause.  The fire crackled.  Shadows flickered on the ceiling, and Azubah sighed.

“When Tunkasila 5 called men out of the Black Hills, do you know what he gave them as their first gift?  He told them the story of the world that came before them.  He assured them that all would be well if they lived in harmony with the earth and with each other.  But people are stupid.  If they hear something they don’t like, then they do not listen.  Both No-Maj and Wizards do this, as do white men, black men, and Indians.” 6 She paused.  “Tunkasila is not here to tell us what we need to hear.  So it’s up to us now.”  She looked past Misko at the typewriter on the desk.  “It is up to you, Misko.”

Misko looked down from the ceiling at the typewriter sitting in front of him.  

Azubah quietly got up, took the flannels from the fireplace mantle and went to the bedroom to change.  Misko barely noticed, just as he didn’t notice when Joel came in after casting the Fidelius charm and shuffled back to bed.  

The fire flickered, the shadows danced on the walls, and the only noise punctuating the silence of the night was the sound of Miskos fingers pounding the typewriter keys.

1. Akicita is a Lakota title meaning 'Warrior' or 'Veteran'

2. Broomsticks are a European Wizarding invention, and Native American students are usually taught to use them at Ilvermorny.  Ten Wands is a Native American Witch who never went to Ilvermorny.  Most of the magic she uses (with the exception of a handful of European-style spells) was developed by her own tribe.  Most of these spells can be cast without a wand.  Ten Wands won her broomstick in a fight in the early 2000s, but has never learned how to use it.

3. Hau Akicita, mačhante čhetetanhan. --> “Hello Warrior, I greet you from my heart” translated using @istamaza​‘s English-Lakota Dictionary.

4. Misko’s middle name, “Awasajiw,” is pronounced [uh-WAH-sa-JOO].  You can find a recording of it here.

5. “Tunkasila” means Grandfather in Lakota.  It’s also what many Lakota speakers call God.

6. Thanks @istamaza​ for telling me this Lakota creation story.  

@writingwithcolor @ask-queenie-goldstein @askyoungdumbledore @ask-newton @ask-credence-barebone 

[idontneedasymbol]

12x11 Regarding Dean

Finally a brother-focused episode! If not my favorite ever, it still had enough I loved that I could overlook what I didn’t:

Dean holding a soft fluffy bun! ...that was so not a wild rabbit; they’re more brown than gray and rarely that plump, but who cares if it’s that cute. And he’s so gentle with it, Dean loves small soft things -- such a caretaker, aww.

I’ve seen several reviews wondering why Sam wasn’t more worried about Dean when he didn’t come back the night before, but that didn’t bother me -- one, Dean’s a grown man, and he goes out for nights sometimes, and they didn’t even know for sure there was a case. And B, he didn’t take the car (or they’d have known where he got burgers) which means he had some intention of walking back, so Sam probably expected that ‘get food’ included booze.

...and yeah I loved Dean’s One, B thing -- was that the memory loss, or deliberately getting Sam’s pedantic goat?

“Dude you better still be drunk” -- hmm, as opposed to what? Dean is acting more high than drunk at that point, and it’s pretty clear he was into alternative substances in the past, so I think Sam was wondering.

Jensen had so many awesome line deliveries, but the “So close!” with the lamp is maybe my favorite.

And Jared was also bringing his A-game -- Sam going from amused, to annoyed, to worried, to grieving and terrified, was as wrenching as anything happening to Dean.

Actually, as a Dean fan, this ep was really as much or more for Sam. I would’ve liked more about what Dean was losing. Most of the memories were really general -- words, the concept of hunting. Except for Sam’s mention of their recent incarceration, there wasn’t any reference to any of the most burdensome memories Dean has (like the Mark or Hell) and it only touched on the people he was forgetting. Considering the people he loves are so core to Dean, I’d have liked a little more pain that he’d forgotten Charlie, or Bobby -- or forgotten that his mom was still alive.

At the same time, while I’d hoped for the angst of him forgetting Sam, I have to love that he didn’t -- that Sam screams and Dean recognizes him; that he maybe blanks on Sam’s face at the end, but that he’s “brother” is all Dean needs to know.

But the brothers wibbling at each other in the bathroom (to get privacy from Rowena, I’m assuming?) -- that’s really all you need to make me happy, show (well, it doesn’t have to be in a bathroom! but the mutual wibbling is key.)

And the mirror scene, geeze, Jensen -- putting aside the OMG HIS EYES ARE GREEEEEN, just, tear our hearts out why don’t you. (Dean looking into mirrors is the worst for him and the best for us.)

Also this movingly personal review, from someone who is going through what Sam did, gives a heartbreaking perspective on how effective this ep was.

Dean is so disturbed to hear that he’s a killer, not really caring that it’s for the greater good -- but he shoots the witches at the end unhesitatingly; the greater good is too abstract, but saving people in front of him, that he’ll always do.

Dean’s WTF expression when Rowena mentions God and his sister is so much beauty.

Both the Dean & Rowena and Sam & Rowena scenes were amazing -- love her, and she’s so becoming one of their closest allies in spite of themselves (all of them, she doesn’t want this any more than they do).

And Dean totally does remember what Rowena told him. But I think his “blank, mostly,” was confirming with her a ‘happens-in-Vegas’ pact.

Meanwhile, Sam, I think you owe Rowena a pretty big one, actually. And I think we all know how you can pay up.

(With your body, Sam. You can pay her with some hot, major size-kink, hunter-on-witch action.)

I’m a bit cranky about Dean’s fake-out with Sam at the end. Like, it’s not completely OOC, Dean can be a dick, and that’s probably why he does it, to prove that yes the asshole we know and love is back. And Rowena solemnly playing along, hee. But Sam looks so traumatized, and it doesn’t give any indication of how Dean sympathizes with what his brother was going through. All it really needed to soften it was a final shot, cut back from Sam to Dean doing a “mischievous smile with a bit of a twinkly wibble” (as per @owehimeverything​, and you know exactly what she means).

The final conversation was really sweet, though. (Though again I’d have liked it to have gone a little deeper -- they could’ve tied it into the arc, mentioned that trying to forget about what they went through in prison doesn’t make it go away and maybe they should deal with it?) But mostly I’m just happy to have a classic brother scene, it’s been too dang long!

And they could’ve cut down the music vid at the end a bit (anime has made me impatient with flashbacks back to the same episode, especially when there could’ve been more angsty dialogue instead!) but I obviously am not going to complain about Jensen Ackes riding a mechanical bull in slomo...this show maybe doesn’t know everything we want, but it definitely knows some of it...

[illumynare]

Red vs Blue Fic: Gift of the Magi (1/12)

Summary: Wash has already gone through too much, been broken too often. So when they get captured by Hargrove together, Tucker figures he has one job: until the cavalry shows up, keep Wash alive and (relatively) sane. No matter the cost.

Unfortunately, Wash is just as determined to protect him.

Parings: None. Warnings: Canon-typical language, aftermath of canonical character death, psychological torture, hallucinations, hallucinated child harm, fake-out character death.

Notes: Also available on AO3!

This was going to be my Big Bang fic, except I couldn't get the draft done in time. Ironically, this means I get to start posting first! ...no promises about how soon it will be done, though.

Huge, huge thanks to @a-taller-tale  for the beta.

"On your feet, Private Tucker!"

Tucker's learned to hate Wash's soldier voice. That smug, cheerfully brutal, I-am-so-proud-I-remembered-something-from-Basic voice.

When he wakes up to it this time, though, what he feels isn't hatred so much as dread. Because there are only two times that Wash uses that voice. One is when he's about to put Tucker through another sadistic training routine.

The other is when they are totally fucked.

Tucker hurts all over, and his head hurts most of all. When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees are like six warnings flashing in his HUD. The next is Wash—

And a row of Charon mercenaries behind him.

They're in a cell, Tucker realizes, a really high-tech holding cell with a viewscreen on the wall. And a fuck lot of guns pointed at them.

Yeah. Even Wash wouldn't make this a part of his training plans.

Tucker tries to sit up, but his hands are snapped into cuffs, and he can only manage an awkward lurch that sets his head spinning. Wash is right there, grabbing at his shoulders, helping him up.

"That was an order, Private," he says, but his voice has gone softer now, like when he's talking to Caboose on one of his bad days. "How are you feeling?"

"Gonna be sick," Tucker mumbles, and Wash manages to pop the seals and pull off Tucker's helmet just in time.

Wash holds on to Tucker's shoulder while he's barfing. He keeps holding on even after Tucker's stopped gagging, and oh shit, that's also a really bad sign. The last time Wash put a comforting hand on his shoulder was a month ago, when Tucker was being carried off the Staff of Charon with two bullets in his leg and static in his head where Church used to be.

Tucker tries to pull himself together and be cool about this. "Dude," he says, "I'm totally a captain now, remember?"

"Only in the Army of Chorus," says Wash. "UNSC regulations clearly state—"

Tucker groans. He would bang his head against the wall, but it's hurting too much already.

That's when the viewscreen flickers to life, and Malcom Hargrove is staring at them with beady little eyes.

"This is all very touching," he says, "but now that you've seen your companion is alive, we have some business to finish."

Totally. Completely. Fucked.

"He's got a head injury," says Wash. "He's needs medical attention."

"I told you," says Hargrove condescendingly, "he gets what he needs if you cooperate."

"Right," says Wash. "Tucker. I need you to stay calm."

Tucker's stomach is still churning. The memories are starting to come back now—a patrol out to yet another of those stupid alien temples. Caboose rambling about he can't wait to bring all his best friends out here and have a picnic, and Wash pointing his gun at every shadow and demanding that Freckles run another scan, and fucking Palomo pretending he knows about girls just because Jensen is willing to hold hands with him now.

Then they split up, and guns. Flash-bangs. Caboose—

"He's fine," says Wash, and Tucker didn't realize that he'd said anything out loud, but okay. That's good. He fucking hates Caboose, but he doesn't want to explain to Delta why he isn't coming back.

He doesn't want to talk to any of Church's fragments, if he can help it.

"They all got away," says Wash. "It's just us."

"You're my prisoners aboard the Staff of Charon," says Hargrove. "And I assure you that we are now far, far beyond the reach of your little friends."

Tucker ignores Hargrove and focuses on Wash. "What's the plan?"

That's, like, the one redeeming thing about soldier-voice-Wash. He always has plan. It usually involves Tucker doing a million squats, but right now, Tucker will take anything he can get.

"They're taking you to medical," says Wash, way too soothingly.

"Uh . . . that's not a plan, dude."

Tucker knows he isn't 100% right now, but he can notice that much.

"The plan is stay calm and wait for the others to come for us," says Wash. "Everything's going to be fine," which is such an obvious lie that Tucker wants to call him on it, except Wash is already turning away and marching toward the guards. Stoically.

Tucker decides that Wash has a point, that it's not worth trying to start a fight now while his head is pounding and he (probably) can't walk in a straight line.

And okay, maybe part of his brain has started gibbering because they're back on the Staff of Charon, and Wash walking away from him looks like—he didn't even see Church leaving, that's the thing, he was staring at the back of that asshole's glowing head one moment and he was gone the next and fuck fuck fuck Tucker is not having a breakdown over this right now. Seriously. He doesn't even miss Church.

Tucker tries to think about the hot nurses waiting for him in the med bay. Maybe he can seduce their way out of this.

The nurse is fifty years old and a dude and hates him. Tucker's never had blood drawn that angrily before, and who even does that for head injuries, anyway?

They also take his armor away, and sure, it's not like it would do him much good with all the guns they have trained on him, but being stripped down to his kevlar undersuit leaves him feeling naked. The really, really not fun kind of naked.

On the bright side, there are painkillers, and a machine that glows like Wash's healing unit. Stolen Freelancer tech, or stolen alien tech? It's awesome either way. When they throw him back in the cell, he's already feeling a lot better.

And hey, maybe things aren't so bad. Wash is right, the others are going to come for them. And Tucker isn't ready to give up on a daring escape yet, either. He's already beaten the odds to make it off the Staff of Charon once.

Of course, that time, the ship was right on top of the Communications Temple. It was easy for Wash and Carolina to get up there with reinforcements.

But the Staff of Charon vanished after the battle. Nobody on Chorus has gotten a glimpse of it in the month since, either in orbit or landed on the ground. They were actually starting to hope that Hargrove had just booked, but apparently he's still hiding somewhere that allows him to send troops to a temple and kidnap people.

And the fucking UNSC still hasn't shown up yet.

Whatever. They escaped once, they can totally do it again. As soon as Wash comes back, they can start planning.

Except Wash doesn't come back.

Tucker has no idea how long he's been waiting when his brain finally starts working and he remembers: Hargrove had said to Wash, If you cooperate.

Yeah, no.

"Hey!" he shouts, because he knows this cell is bugged. "Take me to your bald and sexually impotent leader!"

It takes him another five minutes of shouting, but finally the viewscreen flickers to life, and there is Malcom Hargrove, glaring at him just like he did before that battle where Tucker was epically awesome and Church decided to fuck off like a loser.

"Do you think that this tantrum will accomplish anything?" Hargrove demands.

Well, it got him Hargrove on the line, but Tucker is actually smart enough not to say that.

"What are you doing with Wash?" he demands. "You have some kind of deal with him, right?"

Hargrove looks smug. "Agent Washington has agreed to cooperate, because he realizes what kind of situation you are in."

"And that means . . ."

And Hargrove smiles. It's honestly the most horrible expression Tucker has ever seen on a human face.

"My researchers have developed a new virtual reality training interface. It connects directly to the brain and has almost AI level complexity in the scenarios it can create. I think that Agent Washington would be an excellent test subject, don't you?"

Wow. Fuck no. Fuck that. Fuck everything.

"Dude. When you were putting together that creepy-ass trophy collection, did you even read any of the reports on Project Freelancer? The last time somebody hooked a computer into Wash's head, he went catatonic and wet the bed."

Tucker wasn't supposed to know that stuff, but he might have gotten Simmons to hack the video records from Project Freelancer. And he might have gotten really drunk afterward.

"Unfortunately," says Hargrove, "I don't have a lot of test subjects on hand with neural implants from Project Freelancer."

And for just a second, Tucker freezes.

But he knows what he has to to.

It's not that Tucker has any interest in that martyrdom shit. It's just. Wash has already been crazy once, and to be honest, most days his sanity is still a bit more held together with bits of linty old tape than Tucker is comfortable with. Like when he wakes up from nightmares, and maybe he's not screaming, but he's not there. He just shivers and looks at Tucker and Caboose with this blank, glassy stare and kind of mutters to himself, and sometimes in the morning he's still not there, lost in his world of This Is Your Brain On Epsilon; Don't Do Epsilon, Kids (until Caboose sets something on fire, which wakes him up, usually).

Tucker hates those days. They don't happen as often since they joined the Army of Chorus—bossing around a squad of terrified recruits seems to be good for Wash—but they still happen.

So what it all comes down to is, it doesn't matter what kind of ridiculously badass training they had in Project Freelancer. Captain Lavernius Tucker of the UNSC is still a lot more prepared to survive anything Hargrove can dish out.

"Look," he says confidently, "you can try to do this stuff with Wash, but it's not going to work. I've got implants from Project Freelancer too, and I'm going to give you much better test results."

"But are you going to cooperate?" Hargrove asks.

It's just until they come for us.

The others are going to come for us.

"Sure," says Tucker. "Just don't tell Wash."

Wash hopes that Hargrove kept his promise, and hasn't told Tucker about what Wash is going to do.

He knows what Tucker would say: this is fucking bullshit. Worse than that, he'd probably be disappointed. He was the first of them who had wanted to stay on Chorus and help. If he knew that Wash had agreed to work for Hargrove—to fight for him—

But Wash doesn't have a choice. He really does believe the others will come for them, but they aren't here right now. They can't protect Tucker right now.

That's why Wash said yes. That's why he's forcing himself to walk down this corridor, toward the med bay in the Staff of Charon, no matter how terrified he is.

When he steps through the door and sees the operating table, for a second he can't move, can't breathe, because every synapse in his head that was torn and burnt by Epsilon is screaming at him to run, run, run.

But Hargrove wants one of them to work for him. Hargrove wants to ensure that one’s obedience.

Wash tries to tell himself that it will be okay. This isn't like Project Freelancer. There's no Alpha screaming at the heart of the ship—

that's what he remembers from Freelancer, static and screaming and Director, I just need more time, because Epsilon woke up knowing and wanting to know, and in 0.08 seconds he processed all of Wash's memories, compared them to Alpha's and timestamped them with simulation_00010 I'm sorry to tell you Agent Texas is dead simulation_01010 Agent Washington is simulation_101111 dead is dead is

—there's no Epsilon. The thing that Hargrove is putting in his head is just a dumb AI like FILSS or Freckles. Dumber, even. It's the Mark IV Targeting-Lock Interface, and even if Wash has a lot of questions about who tested the Marks I-III, he knows he can survive it.

He has to.

Because Hargrove won't let him out in the field unless he's got this thing in his head to control him.

And Hargrove looked at Wash and said, I am prepared to guarantee the safety of your friend if and only if you can prove yourself a valuable asset.

Wash knows that Hargrove won't kill Tucker. The man pulling the strings of the civil war on Chorus isn't stupid enough to throw away his only leverage on a Freelancer who's shown himself more than willing to die taking down someone he hates.

But there are too many other ways that Hargrove could make Tucker pay.

Tucker isn't the same person he was back in Blood Gulch (and even when he was the worse soldier, he was the better man). He's brave and he's smart and Wash truly has total faith that he can survive anything Hargrove throws at him.

It's just . . . Wash knows how much surviving doesn't mean.

(he can't remember what color Connie's hair was, he just remembers simulation_00110 and the color of her brains smeared across the cargo bay I'm sorry to tell you Agent Connecticut is dead DIRECTOR PLEASE—)

Wash is already broken. But Tucker doesn't have to be.

That's how he's able to swallow his nausea and walk forward. He can do this, because he has to do this, because he can't let another team die. He can't.

There's a surgeon waiting beside the operating table: a tall, pale woman who looks at him with exactly the same dispassionate analysis that he remembers from the doctors and the technicians at Project Freelancer.

"Remove the subject's armor," she says to his escort, not even looking at Wash. "Hurry up, I don't have all day."

Wash is stripping off his armor before he even realizes what he's doing. Because he knows this: the gleam of the instruments, the sour, flat sterility of the air, the eyes watching him like a distantly interesting experiment.

He lived with this for years. He didn't notice it at first—too desperately grateful for his second chance, his teammates, the Director's kindness—but when he was Recovery One, he knew what those looks meant. Knew he was just a failed experiment, marginally useful for sweeping up the pieces of other failures.

Knew he would find a way to destroy them all.

The cold feeling settles back into his spine like it never left, and it steadies him. Because Wash has done this before: working for somebody he hates and doesn't trust, waiting for a chance to tear them apart. He can do it again.

He doesn't flinch when they strap him to the operating table. When the surgeon drones into her recorder, and the needles bite into his skin.

He knows this.

[revwinchester]

Special Consultant

Summary: When a friend of mine introduces me to Matt Cohen, I become friends with him and his wife and Matt brings me up to set in Vancouver where I get the opportunity of a lifetime.

Author: revwinchester

Word Count: 2653

Characters: Matt Cohen and family, Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, Richard Speight Jr., Robert Singer, oh, and Me - Rev - and my friend Paul!  No romantic pairings (apart from people who are married in real life)

Warnings: None that I can think of apart from this is RPF, which I know isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

A/N: This was written for @iwantthedean‘s You AU Challenge (which I believe you can still sign up for if you want to join in the fun)!  It’s my first attempt at RPF so if that’s not your thing, you might want to skip this one.  It felt weird writing real people, even without any romantic entanglements, so I’m not sure it’s something I’ll try again in the near future but I’m glad I gave it a shot at least this once.  Mostly the AU part is me getting added into their world and a job that I wish was real with all of my heart because I would be a perfect fit for it...  But some of it is real - I do have 2 advanced degrees in religious studies and I’m considering (though I haven’t started) a Ph.D. focusing on angelic lore.  Also, Paul is based on a real life acquaintance who may or may not have gotten to meet Matt Cohen; I haven’t actually asked him.

Special Consultant - 

In the end, it had all been so simple.  Granted, I was fortunate to have a rather talented acquaintance who had landed a recurring role on General Hospital.  Paul’s new job put him into regular contact with Matt Cohen and the pair had become good friends and now, here I was, about to step onto the set of Supernatural.

I had followed Paul’s career from the time he was a bartender in a small Pennsylvania town, singing karaoke with me and some of the other regular patrons.  He’d done a short stint in Hollywood previously but had left for a girl.  She’d ended up dumping him and he started working harder and saving to make his way back to the west coast.  Once he’d gotten out there, he got an agent and a bartending job for some steady income while he gave acting another shot.  He’d landed a few small roles on network television shows and had even been up for a part on The Flash.  

Whenever he posted about a new audition or a potential role (always careful not to share so much information he’d get in trouble with the producers), I always made it a point to send an encouraging comment.  It was exciting to have a front row seat to someone following their dream and making strides toward achieving it.  Hollywood is a big place, though, and I’d never imagined that something like this would come of my one time karaoke partner chasing his dreams.  

After he posted a short video from his General Hospital dressing room announcing his participation in the show, I decided to send a little more than a comment.  I shot him a quick message - “Congrats on GH!  Love the show and hope you have a blast!  Following your LA adventures from afar has been awesome.”  I’d hesitated to send the message initially, would he even remember who I was?  After all, I hadn’t interacted with him outside of the bar where he had worked.  I was a regular at the bar on both trivia nights and karaoke nights and we’d sung duets together on more than one occasion, but it had been 4 years since he’d packed up and moved across the country with his dog.

In the end, I decided to send the message.  Worst case scenario, he looked at it and deleted it, I figured.  But he hadn’t done that.  The message had opened up a conversation that the two of us held sporadically over the next few months (oh, the wonders of the internet).  When I shared that I was planning a trip to California, including a stop in Los Angeles, he invited me to join him and a few friends for drinks one night.

A few friends ended up being some of Paul’s General Hospital cast mates, including one Mr. Matt Cohen and his wife.  I had hit it off with the Cohens and by the end of the night we had exchanged phone numbers and promised to keep in touch once I had flown back home.  To my surprise, we actually did.  My friendship with Matt was great but Mandy quickly became one of my closest friends.  It was her idea for Matt to bring me up to Vancouver with them the next time the show called for Young John Winchester.  Mandy would be going, too since their son would also be appearing in the episode; the writers had decided it was time for Dean to meet his toddler self.  

I figured I’d spend most of my time with Mandy and their son and I’d catch a quick glimpse of Jared and Jensen if I was lucky but Matt had other ideas.  The first day he was set to be filming, he grabbed me by the hand and pulled me over to the set.  He was the first actor to arrive and introduced me to a few of the crew members including the episode's director, Richard Speight Jr.  

After some stilted, stuttered greetings on my part and a genuine smile on his, Rich had to get back to work.  He left me with three instructions, “Just stay quiet while the camera’s rolling, if you need anything, ask a P.A., and have fun!”  With those words and a wink, he was back to talking with the D.P and the camera operators about how to get a specific shot he wanted.  

“You didn’t tell me he was directing!” I hissed at Matt who had been shaking with silent laughter during my entire interaction with Rich.  “Gabriel is, like… and Rich…”

“Are you starstruck, Rev?” Matt asked.  

I didn’t answer.  I only scowled at him.

“You are!  This is adorable!”  His laughter wasn’t so silent anymore so I glared at him harder, which only caused him to laugh harder.  “You made it through an entire evening out with Paul, me, and a bunch of other Hollywood people with no problems and have spent the better part of the last year as friends with Mandy and I.  I never expected this from you!  This is going to be so much fun.”

I balled my hand into a fist and shook it at him in an empty threat.  “Cut it out, it’s not funny,” I practically whined.

“Look, all the people on Supernatural are some of the nicest, most down to earth people you will ever encounter in this business, ok?” Matt assured me.  “Just take a deep breath and you’ll be fine.”

I nodded and did as he said.  As I released the breath, Matt’s eyes lit up and he asked, “You know, we’ve never really talked too much about Supernatural.  Are you a Sam girl or a Dean girl?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, I could tell he was up to something, but I still answered with a suspicious voice “Sam, why?”

“BOOM!” a familiar voice shouted from behind me.  “Suck it, Jensen!”

Two seconds later, my eyes went wide as I realized why I recognized the voice.  I could feel the blush rising in my cheeks as I mouthed to Matt “I hate you.”  

He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek before whispering “love you too!” in my ear and grabbing my shoulders to spin me around.  “Jared, Jensen, this is my friend Rev.  Rev, Jensen and Jared.”

“H-hi,” I stammered, definitely more than a little star struck this time.  Knowing Matt was likely quietly laughing at me again I took another deep breath as Jared and Jensen greeted me and managed to engage them in a short conversation before Gabri… before Rich needed them.  

“You know, I’m pretty sure if I explained the situation to Mandy, she wouldn’t blame me for killing you,” I informed Matt in my sweetest voice.

“Now, there’s the snark I’ve come to expect!” Matt laughed.  “None of that polite crap you were giving to everyone else.”

Matt’s laughter was infectious and soon enough I was feeling back at ease.  

“Don’t you need to meet with Rich about filming?” I asked, finally feeling like I could handle being on set on my own.

“Nah,” Matt replied, “I’m not actually filming until this afternoon.  Figured I’d bring you down here to check things out this morning when I could hang out, though.”  

We spent the morning watching Jared, Jensen, and the crew work.  They were starting the day filming the B.M. scene in the bunker.  I got a little bit of information about the episode from their dialogue but not much.  And, even if I had learned anything big, I couldn’t have shared any of it anyway.  Before filming had started for the day, one of the network’s lawyers approached me with a non-disclosure agreement.  

After a quick lunch, Matt needed to head to the costume and makeup trailers and, again, he dragged me along.  While he was in makeup, I could feel eyes on me but whenever I turned around the only people there were the costume crew.  Eventually, one of the women on the crew tapped me on the shoulder.  “You’re Matt’s friend, right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, holding my hand out to shake hers.  “I’m Rev.”

“I’m Dawn, the assistant costume designer,” she told me, “and I’ve got a proposition for you.  One of our extras for today is really ill and we don’t have time to refit the costume to someone else before the scene needs to film.  We’re pretty sure the costume will fit you with minimal alterations.  Any interest in being a waitress?”

I had a quick costume fitting and was then ushered into the makeup trailer and put in a seat next to Matt who looked a little confused at the crew fluttering around me and my shell shocked expression.  I explained to him what was going on as best as I could and one of the makeup artists filled in the blanks.  

A script was thrust into my hands, apparently I had a line.  “What did I get myself into?” I asked Matt.

“You’re going to be fine, Rev,” my friend assured me, all of the teasing from earlier gone from his voice and I actually almost believed him.  

About an hour later, I found myself mic’ed up and on set dressed in a vintage looking powder blue waitress’s dress and standing behind the counter of the diner where Sam and Dean would encounter the younger version of their father. 

“Action!” Rich called.

Sam and Dean were seated at the counter and the door jingled as John walked in.  He sat a few stools down from the boys and I sauntered over to him.  “What can I get for you, John?”

John never answered because the camera focus pulled to Sam and Dean discussing their case.  “What do we know about these, what did Cas call them? Grigori?” Dean asked.

“They’re angels who were deemed too vicious to leave heaven,” Sam replied.  “Some of them got out, though because we’ve taken one out before.”

“Great.  And now there’s another one of these douche bags traveling through time to friggen kidnap me,” Dean added.

“Cut!” Rich shouted.  “You guys are doing fine,” he explained.  “There’s an issue with the sound.”

“That’s not right,” I whispered to Matt.  

He looked at me quizzically as they changed Jensen’s mic out for a new one.  “What do you mean?”

“What they were saying about the Grigori,” I explained, “it’s wrong.  The Griori were some of the first angels on Earth and they went rogue.  At least, according to the Supernatural lore.”

“Hey Rich,” Matt called over his shoulder, “can you come here for a minute?”

Rich made his way over to where Matt and I were waiting for filming to pick up again.  “What’s up Matty?”

“Tell him, Rev,” Matt encouraged and Rich turned his eyes to me.

“Um, so, that line, the thing they were saying about the Grigori, it’s not right,” I told the director.  “Canonically on Supernatural, they were the first angels on Earth.”

“Huh,” Rich replied, sending a P.A. off to double check.  “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I expect he’ll come back with the same info you just told me but if I change the script like that without going through the proper checks it’s my ass on the line.”

“Oh, yeah,” I agreed.  It made a lot of sense.  “And, anyway, I mean, Biblically, or really deuterocanonically, the Grigori are actually supposed to have been gentle angels but a lot of them fell when they fell in love with human women and created the first nephilim.  The Book of Enoch says that’s why the flood happened - you know, Noah and all that - it was to rid the world of nephilim.”  I was rambling, it was one thing to meet all of these guys, another to suddenly be given a part and a line on my favorite television show, but it was a completely different beast to be correcting the writing team after the script had surely gone through a series of lore checks already.  “I’m sorry, I’m babbling.  I’ll shut up now.”

Rich and Matt laughed at that.  

“It’s fine, we’re still waiting on sound.  How do you know all of this stuff?” Rich asked, his curiosity shining in his golden eyes.

“Um, I’ve got two masters degrees in religious studies and I’m working on my Ph.D. now, focusing my dissertation on angels.  Well, on an angel,” I clarified, “but I’ve read a lot on angels in general and on the different classifications in order to narrow my topic.  It’s still too broad but I’ve got another year to figure it out.”

Jared had wandered our way while the sound crew was working with Jensen.  “Ph.D. on angels?  That’s really awesome,” he chimed in.

“Yeah.  It was something I was interested in before but the final push to really study it kind of came from the show,” I admitted.  “The introduction of angels opened up some really interesting lore and that’s when I really started reading scholarly works on them, just because I was curious.”

“And you said you’ve narrowed your research down to one angel in particular?” Jared inquired.

“Uh, yeah,” I replied, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.  “Uh, I’m going to be focusing my work on Gabriel.  He’s one of two angels named in the Biblical canon and his role as God’s messenger is really intriguing.”

“And he’s clearly the best angel,” Rich laughed and everyone else joined in.  We all fell into easy banter while you waited to be able to resume filming.  Right around the time the sound crew finished up, the P.A. returned and confirmed what I had shared with Rich.  

When filming wrapped for this scene I went back to the costumes trailer to change back into my street clothes.  Matt was still needed on set but he, Jared, Jensen, and Rich made sure to let me know that I was invited back into the wings and Rich even had a P.A. set up a seat next to his, “just in case there’s something else you need to fix,” he said with a wink.

Part way through the evening, an official looking guy with grey hair and glasses came onto the set.  “Take 5 everyone,” Rich commanded and he walked over to the man, engaging him in conversation.  The two walked back toward where I had been sitting and were now standing, chatting with Matt.  

“Robert, this is Rev,” Rich introduced me.  “She’s the one I was telling you about.”

The man extended his hand and I shook it.  “Robert Singer, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well, Mr. Singer,” I replied, wondering what the hell Rich had told him about me.

“I’ve got a proposition for you.  We’re looking for a special consultant,” Robert told you.  “You could work from anywhere and we’d send you the scripts for continuity checks and lore insights before we shoot.”

“Let me make sure I understand,” I said.  “You want me to read the Supernatural scripts ahead of time, like before filming, to make sure the lore lines up with what’s already become the show’s canon as well as to offer insights on the religious lore.”  This sounded too good to be true; there was no way I had heard him right.

“It’s something we’ve been thinking about adding for a while but we hadn’t found someone who was the right fit.  We think you might be that person,” he explained.  “You’d need to familiarize yourself with religious lore from outside of Christianity and we’ll need you to fill out some paperwork and meet a few more people, but I’m hopeful this will work out.  What do you think?”

I couldn’t believe my ears.  “Mr. Singer, I didn’t realize the job of my dreams actually existed.  I think this sounds amazing.”  I replied with a grin.

ALL THE TAGS! (forevers): @deathtonormalcy56 @supernaturalyobsessed @roxy-davenport

Matt Cohen RPF Pond Tags: @manawhaat @notnaturalanahi @for-the-love-of-dean @cici0507 @quiddy-writes @jpadjackles @teamfreewill-imagine @deals-with-demons

[kaffeeliebhaberin]

Wings of the Night

Warning: Mentioning of bullying, depression, suicide and homophobia. If you don't feel comfortable with any of these topics, please don't read the short story. Also, English is only my second language. So there might be some mistakes. Words: ~ 1.400 Caption: Tim spent the day with his best friend Steven playing computer games. But today Tim didn't perform well, and Steve noticed. The reason behind it was the secret Tim had kept from Steve for a long time, now finally being ready to tell him about it. However, the teenage boy reacted differently from what Tim had hoped for.

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I sat there, my best friend right next to me, and I was hella nervous. "Headshot!", he shouted and I jumped because of the exclaim. I didn't intend to and it was unusual for me to act this way. Normally I wouldn't mind the most terrifying horror movies, but today was different. The reason I wanted to meet him was different. I never wanted to have a joyful time with him today, it had to be more honest, more serious. More straight. But I needed an opener, so what could I have chosen other than our favourite hobby? "Damn it, Tim! You're gonna get us killed! If you're not feelin' it, we can play this game another time.", Steven suggested. But again, I was caught up in my own mind. I wasn't focused. And he noticed. I wanted to seem normal so badly, but the thing I wanted to tell him about could change everything. The secret I kept from him for years could end our entire friendship, and that was one of the last things I wanted to happen. I could feel the stare of the slightly older boy, could see it from the corner of my blue eye.  I felt so horribly uneasy, and I knew that he knew how I felt. He could read me like a book, that's how close we were. I mean, we've known each other for five God damn years. How could I be such a bad friend and not trust him? Because I didn't know how he would react. "What's up, buddy? Just spit it out!" He almost forced me to feel bad about myself with that sentence. And it worked perfectly fine. I felt miserable. It was hard to look him in the eye, but I needed to do so. I forced myself to build up the courage. And then, without me realising it, my mouth started to move. My lips and my tongue, even my vocal cords worked together, formed a unit. But my conscious mind was left out. Only when I heard my own words, I understood what I was saying. "I'm gay, Steve." He looked at me with a blank expression at first. Was that good or bad? Then the look on his face became dead serious. "You're kiddin', are ya?", he spat out, and I heard the disgust in his voice. It was so thick and real, it almost fell like a drop of oil on the ground of my bedroom. Tinted it in jet black. I didn't know how to react. I have played through every single scenario, but this one I have left out. I was simply too afraid to imagine that he would find my sexuality nasty, but I should have known better. "You really are not joking.", he said, sounding almost disappointed. He punctuated every single word of his, gave it more depth, more seriousness. "I'd rather not waste my time with you anymore.", he said. Then he stood up, took his jacket and left the room. He never looked at me once, and I hoped he would never do it again. The way he reacted made it more than clear that there wasn't any interest in spending any more time with me. I let myself fall onto my bed, the mattress bouncing a bit under this sudden movement. Was I really that wrong? That disgusting? That unacceptable? God, he didn't even see me as human anymore. How could I be so stupid? How could I trust him so much? I regretted telling him. It was most likely the biggest mistake I've made in my whole, seventeen-year-long life. Or... maybe there was one single thing I regretted more. Being the way I was: gay. Not normal.

The next day I almost called in sick. Technically, I really felt sick. But that would have not been accepted by my highschool. I was sick of seeing humans. I had to force myself to get out of bed and the rest of the morning wasn't easier for me either. It was as if I already knew what I had to face this day. Steven had removed me from the class chat, and I knew that by eight o'clock in the morning the whole school knew my secret. My stomach was upset by the terror and my heart was beating so fast, I felt as if I almost had a heart attack. I could barely feel my trembling hands, as I  reached for the doorknob, which would ultimately lead me to the floor of the very conservative school. My knees were weak, but I wouldn't let myself have a full-on panic attack while laying on the icy stairs to my school. I pressed my lips into a straight line, as I pushed the door open. Only a couple students were standing in the hallway since the first period had almost begun. As I walked to my locker I felt every single pair of eyes that looked - glared - at me. They talked behind their hands as I walked past them, some even pointed their finger at me. I hurried to take out my books, wanting this moment to get over with. I took a deep breath, before closing the locker once again and turning around. The eyes stared at me with disapproval and they wanted me to see it. I tried to ignore them, heading to my classroom. As soon as I saw his self-assured expression, I wanted to turn around and flee back to my bed, my safe place, my home. But I didn't want to give him that accomplishment. He didn't deserve it. "Hey, queen!", he shouted through the whole room and if anyone hadn't been staring at me before, I would now for sure have all the attention. I looked at my feet, suddenly unable to walk or speak. I didn't have any confidence, any strengths, left. I wasn't ready to face such treatment. The brown-haired teenager pushed me back. My back hid the wall behind me, a sharp pain rushed through my spine. I begged the Lord silently, even though I've never been religious. I wasn't strong, my skinny arms barely held any muscle, so I could never ever fight back. I couldn't voice myself. I could only hope that Mr Jensen would get to class on time. The next thing I knew was that I hid the floor.

And now here I'm sitting. Reminiscing my past year of troublesome life in school. That was the first day the bullying started, and now I swore to me to never let that happen again. I wasn't strong enough to endure it again. The agony, the loneliness still overwhelmed me every single night I'd cry myself to sleep. Even the darkness of the night was never comforting, today being an exception. I was calm, relaxed, and in some weird way happy. My legs hung down the roof of the gigantic car park, the cold air brushing trough my thin, blond hair. The wind made a mess out of them, but I didn't mind. I looked down at all the people rushing on the street, kinda feeling sorry for them. They hustled, already taking out their umbrellas as the dark grey clouds started to growl and rumble. I didn't mind. Normally I would have been terrified by the height, worried I might fall down. But again, I was completely calm. I felt like a small baby being held tightly inside their mothers loving embrace. The icy raindrop hit my hairline and run down my forehead, and finally passing my cheek. It got mixed up with the hot tear running down my face. I got chills as more and more drops cooled down my body, dampened my shirt and jeans. I didn't mind. I peeked over the edge again, seeing that less and fewer people were running down the pedestrian walk. An odd smile spread across my face. It was wide and I wasn't used to the feeling anymore. It felt asymmetrical and in a weird way desperate. Almost frantic. I felt lucky about the small number of people on the streets, about the fewer persons who could see my dehumanised body after it would hit the ground. I didn't mind. I didn't felt anxiety. I only felt positive emotions: happiness, fulfilment, joy, calm, inner peace. They send a warm cosy feeling trough my stomach and chest. I was confident about my decision, so I didn't risk another peek. I jumped. I fell. Then everything went black.